Freedom Day: a Pyrrhic tale

It’s not every day that you come face to face with your future. More of which later. First, have you ever heard of Ptolemy? You may not have done to be honest; he was born in 367 BC and can trace his ancestors back to Hercules. He believed the earth was the centre of the universe and that the sun, moon and other planets revolved around it. My writing companion and I wrote a paper way back in 2007 that used this notion to explore how patients could be used in nurse education – ‘Passive patient or engaged expert? Using a Ptolemaic approach to enhance mental health nurse education and practice’. Ptolemy was also influential in helping his mate Pyrrhus regain his throne in 297 BC. Pyrrhus became king of Epirus (a mountainous region in Greece) at the age of 13, but was dethroned just 4 years later. Like Ptolemy, Pyrrhus was a fierce opponent of Rome and the Romans, and fought many battles against them. One of his most famous was the Battle of Asculum. However, any celebration of winning this battle was short lived and misplaced due to the thousands of lives lost. It was a military shambles and gave rise to the term a Pyrrhic victory.

I remembered this story last Monday when our so called ‘Freedom Day’ arrived. The Prime Minister who had, up until fairly recently, been crowing about how we were finally to be free from over a year of Covid restrictions quietly changed his tone and message. Monday 19th July became a somewhat Pyrrhic victory in our Government’s battle against the pandemic. As we now know, the day was marred by soaring rates of Covid infections, many thousands (millions actually) forced into isolation because of their contact with someone who had tested positive, food shortages in some supermarkets and totally incomprehensible Government guidance. It was no wonder that the Prime Minister abandoned has planned Churchillian victory speech.

I was just pleased that at the 11th hour we got some sensible and very clear advice from our colleagues in Public Health England over keeping the Covid restrictions in place in all health care settings. It remains to be seen how easy that will be to maintain. Over the past few weeks there have been increasing numbers of patients and visitors who have stopped wearing masks while in the hospital grounds. There were many reports of younger adults getting out and about, as dancing and drinking together was back on the cards. They appear to be the largest group of folk in the population with vaccine hesitancy. It also remains to be seen what impact this will have on infection rates, hospital admissions and deaths.

Last Thursday J and I experienced for ourselves what Covid restriction-free life could be like. We were attending the wedding of one of my nieces near the beautiful town of Frome. They had chosen a stunning place to have the ceremony and celebrations. Orchardleigh is a 500 acre estate with a wonderful stately home at its heart – see here. We were a bit nervous about going there and mixing with the other wedding guests, and upon our arrival kept to mask wearing and socially distancing. It was a relatively small wedding with just some 40 guests and it soon became evident that most had no intention of adhering to any sensible precautions. At first it felt difficult and uncomfortable.

The ceremony was held outside in a large walled patio, and although we found ourselves sitting close to each other, the sunshine and fresh air were somewhat reassuring. The celebrations after were also partly outside, only going inside for the dinner. The room had tall ceilings with each table well-spaced from the next. The sunshine and heat meant that all the outside-facing doors were left wide open. The day and evening turned out to be much less stressful that perhaps we had anticipated, and it was so wonderful to see some of my family in the flesh once again. I don’t know if it was the early start - I was up at 4am so we could travel down and avoid the worst of the traffic - the sunshine, or those couple of glasses of wine I had, but goodness I slept well.

On the map, it looked as if we were fairly close to Cardiff, where my parents live. That being the case we thought we might nip across country and pay them a surprise visit. It was a two-hour journey mainly on small country roads, although crossing the River Severn on the new Prince of Wales bridge was brilliant. We did eventually arrive, and my Mum and Dad were surprised and pleased to see us. Like many other older folk, the loneliness that came as a consequence of the lockdowns and so on has been hard to bear. Both my parents are now in their 90s and my mother has mobility problems that mean she often spends many hours each day sitting in an armchair. She can no longer really tend her garden, which was a big passion of hers, and seldom travels out of the house. My father is more able and will go out to do shopping and so on, but is looking frail and vulnerable. He spoke of the increasing difficulties he has in simply managing the everyday tasks of life. He is 24 years older than me and looking into his eyes it felt like I was looking into my future. It was unsettling. However, despite it turning out to be a tortuous 6.5 hour journey back home, it was worth the effort and we were very pleased to spend some time with them once more.

There was even a Pyrrhic tale to be told as well. The last time my mother went to her GP (to be vaccinated) the nurse noticed her mobility problems and said she would sort something out to make both her and my Dad’s life easier. After several months’ wait, a vast number of phone calls and emails, a new wheelchair was finally delivered to their house. It is a push along kind, which despite my Dad’s best intentions I think he will struggle with. More importantly it is so heavy, he can’t actually lift into his car boot. So, it sits, unused and cluttering up his hallway. I will try and sort things out on Monday, but I imagine Pyrrhus is probably turning in his grave.