Today marks twelve months since the first day of the first lockdown here in the UK. I don’t think many of us were particularly shocked by the official announcement, but it still seemed a bit surreal. I remember sitting on my bed in the houseshare I lived in at the time wondering what on earth I was going to do now. I’d already learnt a few days previously that I was deemed to be “Clinically
2020 has been the strangest year of my life. I’m sure I’m far from alone in this. Due to my kidney transplant and suppressed immune system, I’ve probably spent more time on my own this year than I ever have before. I’ve also been less lonely than I expected. Back in March, when it was first clear that Covid was very serious and those of us labelled “Clinically Extremely Vulnerable” were advised to shield ourselves
9 weeks. 65 days. 1560 hours. 93,600 minutes. 5,616,000 seconds. That’s a lot of time. It’s exactly how long we have now been in lockdown here in the UK, thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s exactly how long we have all had to stay at home and do, well, All The Things. Or at least that’s how it looks from the outside; as if weeks and weeks of being off work, out of school, away
“We have identified that you’re someone at risk of severe illness if you catch Coronavirus.” I’ve heard and read these words so many times over the last few weeks. Logically, I understand why; I know my decreased immunity would impact my ability to recover from coronavirus if I caught it. I realise how vitally important it is that I follow the strict advice I’ve been given, to stay inside, shielding myself from the world for
I’m Holly. I’m a writer, speaker and kidney patient advocate currently living in northern England.
