The 70 Days (and counting) Cough

My 10 year old girl has been coughing for 70 days.

It's hard to be stoic about it. Mums worry. My heart sinks often. On impulse, I picked up the phone to the GP surgery to enquire about our situation. They said to bring Tess in for a check up.

Instead of going to the waiting room, I was to phone from the car. They ushered us in through the automatic doors, to a room newly labelled, the Respiratory Room. God. 

The GP, who normally wears lovely Boden-style dresses, was in blue scrubs, surgical gloves, a plastic apron, goggles and a flimsy paper mask. My heart went out to her. 

Tess sat on a slice of tissue paper, placed on a seat. I stood, trying to touch absolutely nothing.

GP agreed that Tess' cough had been going on too long. She sounded Tess's chest (cautiously, on her slender back) and said that while the chest sounded clear, we really needed to try something.

We have anti-biotics in the fridge at home, previously prescribed and body-swerved when Tess had improved without them (only to relapse later). You can try them, now, said the doctor. They might help or they might do 'absolutely nothing'.

Next stage would be to upgrade her asthma meds to a combination inhaler. She warned me to phone Boots the Chemist before going. 

Ideally, I'd like a Hazmat suit before going, but damn it, wouldn't the entire NHS? Don't get me started on my level of rage about that failure of Government. 

It's such a stressful time, I said to the lovely GP and thanked her.

People are dropping like flies, she said.  Staff, patients or both, I wondered. I didn't ask. 

On the way out of the Respiratory Room, I found myself suddenly saying, 'love and thanks to all of you here.' My voice cracked and I had to swallow back the tears. 

I drove home and told my girl to, 'have a relaxing shower' (euphemism for the Chernobyl scene I was running in my head). I did the same and threw our clothes straight in the washing machine.

My mum's cancer treatment is now on hold. The young girl next door is due a baby today. I saw her talking to her elderly mum through a window. Covid-19 is affecting everyone, directly or indirectly. 

I'll need to watch some escapist fluff TV tonight. This is hard, people. Let's keep talking.