On Monday evening arrive home from the Royal Adelaide Hospital by taxi with our masks on. Take mine off in a hurry.
‘Going to be a long seventy-two hours Jane,’ I sigh.
Suspend walking with my friends and social activities. No one can actually come inside our home. Self isolation you know. Fortunately we have adequate food in the place.
What can I do? I know I’ll write about the experience.
On Wednesday, ring Lawrie from writing group. ‘Would you like to take writing from my letterbox?’ Explain about Jane and my COVID-19 tests.
‘Do you have your results?’ he enquires.
‘Well no,’ I say.
‘Robert it’s best not to touch your writing unless we can sanitise it,’ he says.
He was right, could spread infection. Couldn’t find any gloves either.
On ringing my medical practice, Hughes Clinic, ‘Good news Robert. You’re negative,’ a secretary says. ‘Jane’s isn’t here. Think doctor will ring tomorrow. There are few things to discuss with her.’
Now we start stressing. Was virus dormant but now positive? It would have been first case in a while in this state. Maybe it will be in the press, shock, horror!
Ring Lawrie. Agree not to do anything until Jane is clear. Could be reason doctor has not rung.
Eventually doctor rings. We both take a deep breath. A bit of blah, blah. Then the words we want to hear. She’s negative! ‘Jane you can go anywhere you like,’ she joyfully says.
Now what to do with the half dozen masks we have between us?
When COVID-19 is eradicated in many years, when it’s just a distant memory…if short of money, I could put my cap and sunglasses on. Take a mask, covering mouth, nose, up under my eyes. In my nineties, could be the oldest old age pensioner to rob a bank. If I can bark Jane’s medical history through a mask, can bark instructions to a hapless teller, if they still exist.
Maybe I need a life!
Burnside Writers Group 