I’m sorry for being disappointingly predictable. I’ve put it off for sometime but, sat on my bed at 14:06 on a rainy Monday, I decided to dutifully fulfil the stereotype of an English Lit student; girl gets Covid-19, girl writes about it.
The biggest irony is perhaps how extreme it feels; I’m existing in my own, heavily sanitised bubble, avoided like a parasite, and arming myself with anti-viral spray every time I go to the bathroom. My closed bedroom door exudes the same ominous vibes as a 17th Century plague victim’s. And when I received the fatal call from contact tracing, I felt like the 2319 case in Monster’s Inc.
Yet for all it’s surreality, I have to remind myself that actually, I’m only one of 72.3 million cases world wide. I can’t even claim a dry cough, and I can definitely still taste my Advent Calendar. My only cause for complaint is two weeks locked up; and it’s something which my English class, Art class and any other poor sod who’s been within two metres of me, also has to endure.
I’ll keep this short because, as we’ve already established, there’s nothing particularly revelatory about getting Covid. If anything, the oddest part is seeing my name appear so often on the Year 12 group chat (and obviously not in the best context). But when you accidentally send half of your year home, it warrants a few paragraphs. I’ll try to avoid apologising, since I’ve probably done too much of that already, but on behalf of whoever gave it to me, and whoever gave it to them, and the bat eater back in Wuhan; I truly hope this mess doesn’t follow us for too much longer.
I’m horribly aware that so many of you have been affected by this. If you’re anything like me, the last weekend has been an ugly blend of self pity, frustration and the contact tracing hold music. And that's brought me to now. I’m sat on my bed, and will be for the foreseeable future, crossing all my fingers in hope that I’m the world’s least contagious case. Here’s to hoping that each of you do ok in your bedrooms (I know its not the greatest place to be stuck), and that we all have a truly happy Christmas on the other side of it.
Things are a little grim at present, but I’m hanging onto the thought of giving my family a hug at the end of this. That, and hopefully being able to taste Christmas dinner.
I hope you all have a lovely Christmas.
Kayleigh Lennon, Year 12
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