I found myself in tears on my morning run recently. Not the first time it’s happened and no doubt not the last. I wasn’t crying from pain, although that has been the case. I once tripped over a rock in Yarra Bend Park and face-planted in the dirt, boy that stung. But this time I was crying for my dear old dad.
Dad is going OK now but a couple of days ago I had to rush him into hospital emergency. He’d collapsed at home and it turned out he’d had a couple of small strokes. His heart had developed a type of arrhythmia. He’s had great medical care and it looks like there’s a straightforward treatment that will get him back on track. But it was a shock, and a frightening episode, made all the worse by the impact of the pandemic.
I took him into emergency, driving through near-deserted streets and wondering if I’d get picked up for being outside my five-kilometre bubble. Dad was weak and a bit anxious. I sat with him at the reception window and helped explain what had happened. But that was as far as I was allowed to go. I couldn’t go into the emergency department with him. I had to watch him shuffle through the doors alone.
I relayed all I knew to the rest of the family and spoke to the hospital doctors over the phone, who were kind and informative. But no visitors allowed, not even Mum. Instead of sitting by his bedside she had to sit in their house alone. No visitors allowed there either. I try hard to keep positive and count my blessings during this awful time. We’re all well, we have jobs, we are able to support our children at home. We’re more fortunate than so many. But since the first round of restrictions I have been terribly worried that something will happen to my elderly parents and I won’t be able to be with them.
I wanted to put my arms around my mum when she was so frightened for the man she’s known for 70 years. I wanted to sit by my dad’s hospital bed and hold his hand. To talk to the doctors in person and hear what was happening first-hand. There have been a few voices arguing that this disease is only really dangerous for the old and that the rest of us shouldn’t have to sacrifice so much for those who are nearing the end anyway. I can’t accept that. Whether they are in aged care or at home, people should be able to end their days as we would all want, without fear and with the people they care about most around them.
My dad was a doctor, he made a difference to the lives of thousands of people over the years. He has a big extended family that loves him dearly. He’s kind and funny and loyal as a Labrador to those he loves.
Every older person matters to someone and they ought not be alone, with only strangers caring for them, when they are seriously ill and frightened. Please wear a mask, stay distant and stay at home so that we can all be back with those we love as soon as possible.
Clare Kermond is a Melbourne writer.
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