The dough heads have done it

Tuesday 24 March 2020

The dough heads have done it. They have forced the Government’s hand. I am writing of those people who attended parties last weekend, who flocked to the seaside, and who gave the UK’s national parks their busiest two days for decades. Social distancing was flouted by many, for reasons I imagine were clear to them, if not to others. The it-won’t-happen-to-me mentality was thriving. No wonder the Government has acted.

Last night, in company with the rest of the UK, I listened to Boris Johnson as he told the nation’s people that they could no longer leave their homes. At least not without good reason. Within moments there were some who complained he had not gone far enough and others who said he had been too rigid. A number also announced that the Prime Minister should have been more assertive earlier. None of those passing comment had the responsibility for making decisions. Every last one was an armchair warrior who could say what they liked with impunity.

I am now allowed to take daily exercise, although how much has not been stated. I can buy food, assuming the shop has not been stripped by the stock pilers, and I can visit a chemist should there be the need. If someone is vulnerable, I can help out. Otherwise I must stay confined to my London apartment. Whatever I do I must give mankind a wide berth.

If I had a house in the country, I imagine I could walk my garden at will. Plenty of my more rural colleagues have bought chickens, so many that the bird is now in short supply. I am guessing they are after its eggs, until that moment when the Sunday roast goes missing, in which case that will be the end of the chicken. Others in the countryside have already started to grow vegetables, on the basis that we are in this for the long haul.

I believe a long haul to be likely. So far, we have been restricted for three weeks. The advice was given in a tone of optimism, as if all will be smooth running in three weeks’ time. I do not see that. I sense many weeks of difficulty ahead, possibly several months, an increasing viral risk, and the likelihood that restrictions will become greater. The British public, as the dough heads have shown, is not always compliant.

Take this morning, as I went out for the daily exercise I am permitted. I like to call it jogging, but speed-stumble would be more accurate. On earlier days I have been one of few. This morning I was one of many.

I spent much of my speed-stumble diving into undergrowth in order to avoid other exercisers. They had latched onto the Prime Minister’s words, that we are allowed to take daily exercise. People are already bending the rules and he has only just issued his order.

The Prime Minister said nothing about dogs. In my view, dog walkers are a hazard, especially when the animals are off the lead. The hounds dart this way and that, sniff passers-by, lift a leg against anything vertical, wag a tail, and expect at least a pat.

A German Shepherd took a shine to me this morning, when I reached a distant Hyde Park corner. It stopped, I stopped, and we both stared at each other.

“There’s no way I’m patting you,” I said.

The animal just panted. I could see its wagging tail. It expected something that I was not about to offer. I had already read that a German Shepherd had tested positive for coronavirus in Hong Kong’s Pok Fu Lam area, so I was not about to take a chance.

“Come here, Randy,” yelled the female owner. The German Shepherd did a half cartwheel and hurtled back to the woman. “Sorry!” she shouted to conclude.

I waved my arm dismissively, to imply it did not matter, when I knew very well that it did. Maybe it is best, until the boffins know more detail, that dog owners keep their animals on a lead? We know so little about this virus and each time we learn something, we realise there is plenty still undiscovered.

The German Shepherd that had tested positive, was actually the second with Covid-19. The first was a 17-year-old Pomeranian, which had tested weakly positive for the virus. The dog had been quarantined but died two days after it had been released from confinement, apparently free of disease. The dog’s owner, a 60-year-old woman, had also tested positive but had not allowed a post-mortem. Without any solid evidence, the Pomeranian was declared to be an example of human-to-animal transmission. I see nothing to support that conclusion so am not about to pat a dog until the boffins are more persuasive.

I speed-stumbled on, glad to have avoided a possible issue, and feeling sorry for the dog that someone had thought to name it Randy.

I discovered a new dance today, which I have christened the Distancing Sway. I learned it in the supermarket when I was heading for some carrots. Fresh vegetables have been in short supply for a few days, so life is at a stage that if you see something, you buy it, and ask questions later. As I headed for the carrots, I sensed a figure to my right. I turned, to see a balding man in his early 70s, looking in my direction, and making his way towards potatoes.

I could not reach carrots, and he could not make it to potatoes, as our direct lines would have brought us way inside the two-metre social distance. As we hesitated, I felt something on my left shoulder and was sure it was Boris Johnson about to yell, “Watch out!”

The balding man took the initiative. “If you go there,” he said, pointing towards beetroot, “I can step here,” he explained, as he readied himself to take a large half leap towards sweet corn. “That way we keep our social distance to an easy two metres.”

The aisles of the supermarket were narrow, so to reliably social distance, it was necessary to be creative.

“You medical?” I asked.

The man smiled and nodded. “Surgical, actually,” he then said.

“It shows,” I replied. “Me, too.” With that we turned, me towards carrots, and him to potatoes. We synchronised perfectly, our steps in time, our bodies swaying to non-existent music. The Distancing Sway had been born and our social distance preserved.

I heard again today from colleagues in Italy. Some are suggesting their country may be turning the corner but looking at the numbers, you could have fooled me. My colleague wrote, and I have not corrected his English:

“The situation is more than critical.

Covid-19 has spread everywhere even with the exceptional measures we have taken.

Cases are growing day by day. Dead are growing.  Beds in the wards and especially in ICU are finishing. 

All elective surgery stopped. Only trauma cases or orthopaedic emergencies and only in specific collecting hospitals. My hospital has been largely (95%) converted to cure Covid-19 patients.

We have now more than 170 Covid-19 severely symptomatic patients in the wards and more than 25 in ICUs.

In ICU only the youngest or the ones with some chances to survive are admitted. Male:female ratio 8:2 in ICUs.

In the wards the youngest is 26 and the oldest 99 (almost 100)! All with Covid-19 and pneumonia.

More and more healthy young patients are arriving fighting for their lives. 

Around 10% are less than 50.

NOT only old and sick people!

Therapies are empirical. A great variability in responders. Oxygen to take time. Drugs to pray. God to survive.

The pathology is divided in two phases: first phase the virus replicates and second phase the body reacts, often creating more damage. 

We have many Covid-19 positives between doctors, nurses, laboratory personnel and others, even with strong measures.In one hospital, all beds are Covid-19 now, with 30 doctors already infected.

Good news: my friend who had Covid-19 and pneumonia, is healed and today went home!!

Yesterday we had an up to date meeting so we can become a kind of pneumologist!  In reality a low-level involvement, fortunately for the patients, but everyone will be needed soon.

In this area the vast majority of doctors are already helping to fight this invisible enemy.

BE PREPARED!! ACT NOW!!! KEEP YOUR FAMILY AND EVERYBODY YOU CAN REACH ISOLATED FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD!!!!

All the best and good luck.”

There is discussion taking place for clarity about the new rulings from the Government. Who should go to work, who should not, and who is an essential worker? There is something sad about being inessential, which does not fit with the human psyche. Each of us is proud of what we do. When I think about it, right now I am probably inessential.

A further tragedy is that the Olympics have been postponed. The poor Japanese. I will wager they have put together a tremendous occasion. To postpone such a huge event so near to its date could not have been an easy decision. That is before one might consider the athletes, who will already have worked out their training schedules, so they can peak at exactly the right moment.

Yet one thing is certain. I cannot imagine any of the athletes is a dough head.