Tier 4 restrictions were suddenly announced yesterday, creating alarm, panic and hysteria.
While many people were thinking of themselves – I was thinking about my nan.
My grandma has been isolated since March, but in reality, she has been alone for much longer.
Just like many of the older generation, she permanently lives by herself after her partner died nearly ten years ago.
Days can seem like years and monotony and loneliness are the real enemy.
She celebrated her 89th birthday in lockdown earlier this year, and although we sent her flowers, gifts and cake, connecting through a phone just isn’t the same.
The whole of the southeast has just been plunged into Tier 4.
Shops are shut and family mixing is out of the question.
My nan is in our support bubble, but she lives in a Tier 2 area many hours away, and the government has impressed on us the importance of not travelling.
We considered going to pick her up last night, but she refused out of fear of catching the new strain of the virus.
She has convinced herself that stepping out of the door means almost certain death. How could I live with myself if I gave my nan Covid and she died of the virus?
It is the sad truth that we must spend Christmas apart this year… for the first time in my life.
The virus is not just a physical threat; it has pushed my nan into a severe bout of depression.
She has always been an anxious person, but the uncertainty of the tier system, the constant threat of death, and the absence of her family has taken its toll.
My nan rings my mum every day at 8am.
If she doesn’t get a reply immediately she will call me worrying that something awful has happened to my mum – that she has died in her sleep or has contracted the virus.
The pandemic has heightened her anxiety to the point where she doesn’t even want to go to the supermarket or out of the house for fear of becoming ill.
As an 89-year-old woman with severe asthma, you can hardly blame her.
The support for the elderly and high-risk population has been almost non-existent.
Told to isolate for nearly a year and scared into staying inside, many young people do not realise how difficult this time is for those whose lives are on the line.
Mental health in the elderly is often disregarded and forgotten about, just as those in care homes were forgotten about at the start of the pandemic.
It makes me angry that people are not taking the social precautions seriously. If my nan gets the virus it is more than likely that she would not survive it.
Christmas is supposed to be the season of goodwill, but I do not see any consideration in the people refusing to wear a mask or forgetting to remain socially distanced.
Although it is clear that these new rules are vital to protect the vulnerable, I can’t help but think that we could have avoided this if people had cared more about protecting each other.
I feel that I cannot enjoy a Christmas without my nan, knowing that she is sitting lonely and upset by herself.
All the festive joy has gone from the season and deep down I fear that I may not celebrate another Christmas with her.
On Christmas Day, I will miss watching old movie musicals with her, miss hearing her hysterical laughter after too much bubbly, and miss being close to a woman I love so much.
I could not bear if this year was the final year of her life, locked inside with no one to talk to, fearfully watching the news and hoping for a better future.
Christmas is not complete without family; they are the heart and soul of what Christmas is.
A gift is nothing without the person who gave it to you.
2021 may turn out to be a better year, but right now all I can think about is a lovely woman sitting alone with her mince pie and an old Bing Crosby record.
