Everything is changing daily at the moment. My much-loved boyfriend Ed is in hospital with Covid and Pneumonia right now. The doctors say that he is on day 12. It is now the first of April.
I last saw Ed on the 14th March. We don’t live together but keep in touch constantly by phone chatting for up to an hour every night at 9 pm, downloading the day’s woes and triumphs and supporting other emotionally.
As Lock-down approached, Ed was OK and went in to work on alternate days, swapping with colleagues until everything finally shut down on the Friday.
I didn’t see him the following weekend. I was tired and we stayed apart as a precaution. On the following few days, his first week of working from home, he suffered from continuous headaches and really struggled to concentrate on work. He had not been sleeping, he had a cough, lost his appetite and had a temperature.
On the Friday morning I got a frantic text saying that he was waiting for an ambulance. He was admitted to the hospital with breathing problems and given all the tests and a chest scan which showed a mass on the lungs. They considered that he might have suffered from a panic attack but tested him for Coronavirus. Then they sent him home.
Meanwhile, I was looking after my children at my house. I was well, the sun shone. It was a beautiful but confusing week.
Over the weekend the weather cooled and clouded over. Ed was pretty convinced that he would test positive for the virus and continued to decline, worrying each night about the worsening symptoms, head racing with strange and confused thoughts.
He called for an ambulance and went in to hospital in the early hours of Tuesday 31st. He was put on a drip and given oxygen. Later that day he got his result for Covid and a diagnosis of pneumonia by mid-afternoon. The consultant increased his oxygen level. He asked me to get in touch with a neighbour who has seen some pretty rough things in the army. At this point I started to get very worried.