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So here it is...

It’s 3 years today since my lovely rheumatologist told me that I needed to be careful about going out because there was a new virus called Covid out there and it was nasty. So I locked down before it became fashionable, and today I found out that my lockdown is never likely to lift because it’s not cost effective to prescribe a drug that might give me the same resistance to Covid as most people will get from the vaccination. They say it doesn’t work on the newer variants. Have they looked for drugs that will? No. Are they planning to? No. Are they going to give people like me priority for trials for any new treatments that may emerge. By now I expect you won’t be surprised to hear that the answer to that one is ‘no.’


I’m going to quote what the people responsible have said because the lack of compassion is so unbelievable. “We know that today’s decision will be disappointing for the many thousands of people who do not get the same protection from vaccination against COVID-19 as most people, and who therefore continue to significantly modify their behaviour to avoid infection.”


Yes, you could call it that. No restaurants, pubs, shops, parties, theatres, cinemas. No meeting up with friends at Christmas. No

weddings. No christenings. Funerals at your own risk; and having attended one recently it was a nightmare and I ended up standing outside in the cold, trying not to cry after I’d explained why I was wearing a mask and trying to keep away from people for the tenth time to people I’d warned beforehand.


Not having friends over, or going to their houses. Not hugging my great nephew because children are what lovely rheumatologist charmingly called ‘disease vectors.’ Which is a phrase that’s going to have to find its way into a book sometime. ‘How lovely to meet you and your two charming disease vectors!’ Being dependent on other people being sensible. Being laughed at for wearing a mask and trying to social distance. Family members and former friends telling me I’m over-reacting because ‘everyone’ knows Covid isn’t serious any more.


Tomorrow, I shall come out fighting and plan what I can do to make life better. I’m already thinking about really stylish coats, gorgeous scarves, natty woolly hats, matching gloves Thermal long johns (Less glamorous but no one will see them!) Lovely warm furry lined boots. Really pretty pack a Macs. If I have to see people at a distance outside then that is how it will have to be, so surely that has to be an excuse to spend some of that money I won’t be spending in the above in the garden.



Today, I am saying goodbye to part of my life, and it hurts. I think subconsciously I knew that the half million people in the UK like me who are immune compromised had been edited out of the picture months back when they stopped issuing guidance and said it was up to us to discuss it with our doctors. But the thing is, there is so much more I could have if other people would think. Better ventilation for one thing!


So, I’m putting this out there in the hope that it might just make a tiny difference. If someone is wearing a mask or trying to socially distance, give them space. Don’t tell them there’s no need because you don’t know what their need is. If someone says they can’t do something because of Covid, then your opinion is exactly that. Please, keep it to yourself because you won’t be helping. And if you happen to see an MP in your travels, please, ask them why half a million people can be consigned to a half life without anyone caring while other minorities get so much attention.


And here is a picture of a face mask. For most of you that’ll be a memory. For me it’ll be part of my life for the foreseeable future.

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