Dr Kristopher Lovell

After I left my hometown and finally started my undergraduate degree, I thought I’d left panic attacks behind. Now I’m having them again, but in totally different circumstances.

A crowd with no feeling of escape or solitude used to set me off. Now, I spend a day staring at a blank computer screen, trying to summon the energy and motivation to just. write. something, and before I know it the day’s over, I’ve achieved nothing, and I’m having another attack.

My deadlines are as strict as before. I can’t claim exceptional circumstances because everyone’s going through the same thing, and I am going to meet my deadlines and pass this course, but at what price? I can feel my mind slowly twisting into something other than itself. I can’t have a future without this degree, but is it going to cost me my future to get it?

I have two exams this week for our musculoskeletal, dermatology, and rheumatology block. It’s one of the hardest anatomy blocks in the curriculum (did you know how many muscles are in your arm? it’s too many), but we’ve been isolated from campus for eleven weeks now and so we haven’t been able to dissect. Oddly enough, I miss my cadaver, but more I miss being able to study with friends and being able to study somewhere other than my apartment. It’s a little bizarre, being a medical student in all of this. I followed this path because I want so deeply to help those around me, but I’m so early in my education that I’m fairly useless. I have signed up to do contact tracing locally, through my medical center, which helps with that feeling, but still. It doesn’t feel like I’m doing a whole lot as I sit on my couch for hours everyday watching pre-recorded lectures and trying to cram muscle names into my brain.

Yesterday, I opened twitter to try to procrastinate for a moment, which was a mistake. I came across a video from AJ+, an animated “day-in-the-life of an NYC ER doc”, and then I came across the NYC Times front page. The one with all the names, and half a sentence within which to condense the life of a loved-one. I sobbed for a while, but it was almost a relief. I don’t want to become inured to the death toll, to what’s happening. In some ways it’s become a bizarre new normal, not making eye contact with the headlines that pop up on my phone. I want to feel the grief that is appropriate, but I also have to survive this myself, and we’ve got months yet at best.

25.05.2020

This is the first time I have cried with rage since it all started. I want to throw things at the wall and watch them break. If I could leave the house, I’d get on the first train I could and beat down the doors of Downing Street with my fists. I’d break my own bones against the walls of government if I had to. But I can’t do that.

It is so, so hard to know what to do when we can’t even go outside. I feel useless, like I’m watching the country crumble around me and I can’t do anything about it. I should be doing something about it. I spent an hour drafting a letter to my MP and it feels useless. I sent it and felt nothing.

This is what I wrote:

To [MP]

I am writing today, as I’m sure many of my fellow constituents have already done, to express my sheer rage and despair at the actions of Dominic Cummings. Cummings’ actions, in failing to quarantine and instead leaving lockdown with at least one symptomatic person, are more than simply a flagrant defiance of the UK’s current lockdown regulations, but are an example of abhorrent, unconscionable behaviour that would be worthy of rebuke from any UK citizen, but are absolutely tantamount to a fireable offence from a government official.

In effect, Mr Johnson has chosen to defend the potentially illegal and dangerous actions of an individual with whom he has close personal and professional ties in a blatant, offensive act of nepotism. This cannot be allowed to stand. It is simply, objectively not acceptable for there to be one law for government officials and another law for the general populace, especially when people’s lives are depending on these laws being universally applied, respected, and followed.

To add to this, Mr Johnson’s ludicrous defence of Cummings as having acted with ‘integrity’ to follow his ‘fatherly instinct’ is, to put it colloquially, a slap in the face to all parents who have reluctantly put their ‘parental instincts’ aside and chosen to follow the lockdown regulations instead. Many parents have been forced to care for their children while they themselves are sick; been unable to see their children when they themselves are symptomatic; and in some cases been unable to visit their sick and dying children, perhaps most notably the parents of 13 year old Ismail Mohamed Abdulwaha, whose death on March 30th was widely reported, and whose parents were unable to visit him or attend his funeral.

Mr Johnson has effectively, in mounting this defence of Cummings, criticised all those parents who have been forced to make unfathomable decisions regarding their own children in order to protect the safety and lives of their fellow citizens. This, once more, is simply unconscionable; a nation already in mourning for so many of its loved ones does not deserve to, in effect, be told that they failed their children by doing what they were previously told was the only right and correct thing to do.

In the wake of these actions coming to light, Cummings’ position in the UK government is no longer tenable. A country cannot have faith in its government when the head of that government, as well as many of our elected officials, openly speak out in defence of behaviour that is not only immoral in the highest degree, but shows complete disregard for the regulations imposed by that government. At very best, it shows a complete lack of respect on behalf of the government for the wellbeing and lives of its citizens; at worst, it sets a dangerous precedent for putting the law into one’s own hands and choosing one’s individual priorities over the common good, risking thousands and thousands of lives to a virus we are already struggling to fight.

I thank you for having spoken out about this on your public platforms already, and look forward to hearing what the government intends to do about Cummings’ position, as anything other than an immediate termination of his role is simply unacceptable.

Best,

[Name]

What I wanted to write: the government does not care that we are dying in droves. You don’t give two fucks about the people who can’t bury their children. You haven’t lost so much as an hour of sleep over all those last weeks, days, hours, minutes that were spent alone. All the people who died with only a stranger in a mask to hold their hand. The families and partners who are mourning with nothing tangible to show for their loss. All you care about is saving your own skins, and your skins are completely transparent. I can see the rot at the core of all of you.

This isn’t the first time I have wept with incandescent fury at this government. I cried when the Brexit result was announced, and when it emerged that the official campaign had broken electoral laws and was not rebuked. I cried when Grenfell burnt to ash on all of our TV screens and the charred carcass of the building was the only tombstone the victims had.

But this is something less insidious and more blatant. Not worse, per se, but they’re not even bothering to hide that it’s always been a case of Us and Them.

I don’t know what the country will look like when this is done. I don’t know how many of us will have the energy to open our eyes and really look at it. I’m tired of the rage. It’s so hard to speak of fighting the looming threat of a deadly virus when it feels like you’re constantly fighting your own government.

And when it feels like you’re losing both battles.

May 24th 2020
I’m so tired of everything. I’ve moved Twitter off my home screen because I can’t deal with everyone else’s anger when I have so much of my own.
I don’t want to think about the hypocrisy displayed by the UK government. One of my grandparents died last week. She shouldn’t have. She went to hospital for something simple and she died. I can’t go to her funeral. My parents have to drive an 8hr roundtrip in a day so they can. The rules are still different in Wales and I don’t think I could in good conscience go to England and back. Or legally.
And even if I did – to see people I care about for the first time in months and not be able to be near them? I don’t know how to even think about that. I’m tired. And I’m still alone.
I’ve had such an angry week. But I’m kinda resigning myself to this being my life now. Maybe I’ll just be here in this flat alone forever. Maybe that’s my destiny. I don’t know. How can I hope for anything better right now?
I’m tired.

23 May 2020

I almost put the date above as 23 March. Still can’t get over how warped time feels lately.

A lot of things are warped. What struck me this weekend, is that after 9 weeks of only going outside for essential shopping, a total of once a week, or once a fortnight where I could get away with it, I have become afraid of going outside. That’s pretty warped.

As restrictions have been lifted friends have asked if I want to go for a walk in a park, 2 metres apart and all that. And I want so badly to see people. It’s been so long and I know my mental health has taken a hit and I would maybe feel better if I went out. But when they asked, I felt it so quickly – a tightness in my chest because I can’t go outside that’s where the virus is, I’d be putting people at risk, myself at risk. I’m scared I’ll get sick and die, or get arrested and fined. I know I’m probably being stupid really, but I can’t stop the panic as soon as I think about being in public with other people.

So that’s what I learned this week- I’m scared to see my friends.

When the first case of covid-19 was released, I didn’t think that we would be stuck at home for more than two weeks. After a couple of days, the government’s midnight broadcasts gave me a horror movie ambiance because the number of the incidents increased as the days went by. It didn’t take too long to postpone the flow of our daily lives. We started online classes which were really hard to adopt. The most striking part of the self-isolation for me is to not to go out by necessity. In normal time, going for a walk is a thing that I like most. It was so hard to spend energy at home for me, even if there were alternative ways of spending energy but I couldn’t feel the same way with walking outdoors. Nowadays, thanks to online classes, I started to make ceramics at home and I occupy myself. To sum up, I learned that even going for a walk is such a blessing.

The thing that took place since the beginning of the outbreak in Turkey which I found interesting is the people’s going insane when the lockdown was declared, they acted like they have never seen bread, dry food and in my opinion they must have thought that they would never go out again. I saw people stocking gasoline for their cars for lockdown on twitter. I found this ridiculous, we already couldn’t go out. When this situation is all over, I don’t know how happy I will feel.

11/5/2020 The Power of ‘Nostalgia’ (why is there no antonym?)

I’m looking at the description and thinking, should this read unemployed? Technically I’ve finished all paid work now, and invoiced for it. Technically I am a ‘Jobseeker’. The last time I thought about ‘signing on’ was about 35 years ago when I was temporarily homeless, penniless and trying to get organised (again!). That experience led me to the worst job of my life. Spud-u-like (do they still exist, in ‘normal’ times?) on Brighton sea front. Largely because the bloke in the Job Centre did not believe me that I needed emergency payment … “I’m sure a nice girl (sic*) like you will find something, somewhere to stay” – stunned by the obvious undertone, I wanted to land that punch – or even a punchline. Instead I walked out fuming. Anyhow, nostalgia is nothing to get bogged down in… I’ve made a career of avoiding it. If only there was another word.
[* ‘girl’ – was an anachronism to me even back in the 80s; actually, I was about 27 so as well as insulting, demeaning and patronising, it was inaccurate.]
I am still isolating – I still have a mother in hospital in Somerset – I still can’t work out how I (or the larger we) can get out of this. I am appalled by the inability of people to read a graph, or realise that scientists disagree, that science is ever-evolving and is never totally correct at a particular time. And that, mixed with a showboating ego and advisers we don’t know or see or vote for, is dangerous. Public office is just that – or should be. I don’t care that BJ had to get Brexit done, get divorce done, get engagement done, get baby done and all that personal baggage. Public Office should mean that – your absolute priority – or move along, stand down, become furloughed, take sick leave, take a pay cut, get out the way. know this is ‘unprecedented’
I hate the fact that any semblance of democracy seems to have disappeared – edicts, speeches, little opportunity to challenge, only agreeing to be cross examined by the lightest of light weight interviewers. I am angry. And that means I switch off, avoid, ignore … because I don’t want to be permanently angry … which means I add to the lack of scrutiny and crumbling of democracy.
So, today we wait for a hastily tweaked 50-page document which purports to be UK policy, although the devolved nations have already gone rogue, so is really an English policy. The invidious nature of stretching to breaking consent policing, we’ve seen this before (that nostalgia is creeping in, and it isn’t rose tinted). No doubt this will be late (as things seem to be) with little time to scrutinise before the 3.30 presidential PM address. We can only hope that the renowned forensic scrutiny of the L. of Op. will flag up the dangers of this – for health, for society, for democracy. I certainly no longer place any faith that the Speaker will force the issue.
1985 – nostalgia again – we gave up, we left, the Miners’, the Beanfield, Stonehenge, the Public Order Act, unlawful assembly, militarisation of the police, the ‘unrest’. Seen everywhere that year spray canned, painted, printed and sewed “Last one to leave the country, please turn off the lights.”

Monday 11 May, 00.24 – I Can’t Sleep.

I can’t sleep. Earlier today (although it’s actually the day after at time of writing) Prime Minister Boris ‘Take It On The Chin’ Johnson spoke in a prerecorded speech about steps moving forward. It has become clear, or at least it feels clear to me that we are nowhere near ready. If you are not planning to reopen hospitality until at least 1st July (perhaps more details are to come but the dates feel abstract- did they literally just pick the start of a month because it sounded good?) then we are far away from this being over. I felt like I knew this, but hearing it always feels worse.

I do wonder if his own experience of the virus has made him realise just how serious the matter is. He seemed deadly serious in his speech – slamming tables, stressing the crisis in care homes – and yet I cannot take the man seriously. He and his government have put my family and friends at risk – something I cannot forgive. I suppose it is not personal, but I can’t help but take it very personally. They have given unclear and inconsistent advice and failed to provide adequate support where needed – and now it feels as though the plan is to blackmail the poorest in society into going back into work to kickstart the economy. I am lucky and very privileged- I work from home safely. I worry for my mother – this whole time she has continued to go to her minimum wage manufacturing job despite having conditions that place her in the high risk category, but she is too afraid that she cannot afford to isolate.

And so, tonight I can’t sleep because I am filled with fear and rage and anxiety. Sleep is the only time I don’t feel haunted by the virus (and this isn’t even true every night anymore) and tonight the government have even taken sleep from me. I do hope the Prime Minister’s new baby gives him the same issue.

10th May, 2020 – The Prime Minister’s Speech on Easing the Lockdown
I thought I was very lucky. I’d been unable to find a job before the lockdown, and with my classes all going online, I decided it was best to move back in with my parents, who have a nice house with a big garden, so I’ve really been trying to keep from complaining. Until today. Boris Johnson has just talked about easing the lockdown measures in England so that more workers (read: minimum-wage workers) can go back to work, even though we’re clearly not even slightly out of the woods. With this in mind, the summer job I applied to do at my university will probably want me to come in to the office and work from there. The problem is that my student house currently has a suspected COVID-19 case in. I can’t go back. I feel selfish for being scared; there are other people in much worse situations than me, people starving, people running out of money, people in abusive situations. But still, I feel like I’m in the incinerator from Toy Story 3, trying desperately to run from a massive fiery hole, and someone’s at the controls, and everyone’s screaming for them to do something and they’re just singing Vera Bloody Lynn as though if we were all a little more gung-ho and Blitz Spirited about this then we’d all be muddling along nicely. I hate that our country is nearly the laughing stock of the world. I hate the idea that smug people are going to be blaming us for Boris Johnson. I just want to scream and scream as loud as I can, and when I stop, everyone will just do the actual right thing, and the virus will be gone, and we’ll all agree that we can never let it get this bad again, and we’ll mean it.

10th May 2020

I’m bored of being bored. I’m tired of my brain feeling like it’s made of porridge, like it’s atrophying from the lack of stimulation. I’m fed up of seeing reports of people flouting lockdown rules, and I’m simultaneously angry at what a nation of snitches we’ve become. We’re all curtain twitchers these days. “Is Margaret across the road really going out AGAIN? That’s the second time today!” “I’m sure Jim never used to walk his dog this much before lockdown.”

And you know, I think above all, I’m sick of the relentless optimists who keep trying to tout this whole lockdown period as some fecund field of personal growth. It’s not. We can’t all spend our time meditating and making sourdough bread, Sandra. For a start, there’s still no flour.

I didn’t think that my mental health was going to be too affected by all this. I felt completely fine for the first month and a half. And now it’s been two months, and it’s not fine any more. I miss seeing people without the barrier of a screen between us. I video call people and I want to step right through that screen.

But that all said, I’m glad I live in Wales. Boris Johnson has just spoken of lifting some of the restrictions in England, and now the slogan is ‘stay alert, control the virus, save lives’. Which is yet another example of the rock solid, completely unmistakable guidance with no room whatsoever for varied and conflicting interpretations that the government has been trotting out. (I jest; the guidance is flimsier than filo pastry.) ‘Stay alert’? What does that even mean? Keep your eyes peeled for that invisible virus? It’s ridiculous.

In Wales, our lockdown has been officially extended for another 3 weeks, and as much as my heart sank when I first read that, I’m grateful for it now. We’re absolutely not ready to start lifting restrictions, as hard as it is to live under them. Just yesterday, on May 9th, there were 3896 new cases confirmed in the UK (and 95,845 new cases worldwide, which means we had 4% of new confirmed cases on May 9th.) And again as of yesterday, the death toll worldwide was confirmed at 279,000 (although who knows what the real number is.) The UK’s proportion of that is confirmed at 31,587 (and again, the real figure is likely many more.) That means that, according to the confirmed case figures, the UK has had just over 11% of the world’s deaths from Covid-19. And yet Boris wants to start easing restrictions.

I’m fed up, frustrated, bored, and cranky, but at least I’m not in England.