A couple of weeks ago I got on a plane and flew to the other side of our planet. Something which, for a period, seemed so out of reach as to be impossible. It was quite shocking. It was an unexpected trip, an extension of our honeymoon, with little time to consider how it may be different, possibly confronting, before we left. It hadn’t occurred to me that travel may have changed. Potentially forever.
How much has the pandemic changed our lives since January 2020? Some of the change has happened so incrementally that we may not have even noticed. “New normal” just becomes normal. Previous ways of doing things are slowly forgotten.
We flew out a few days after the need for negative PCR tests was removed. However, we had to carry quite a lot of documentation with us. In Europe the QR readers for Green Cards cannot read our Australian vaccination QR codes. Because of this you must carry a printed paper version of both local and international certificates. In Italy you also need a decree from the Italian government (11 pages long) and a bilingual letter from the Australian Embassy in Rome for interpreting the certificates.
We also had to fill in PLF- Passenger Locator Forms. EU-PLF for going into Europe. Pages long and stating every flight and seat number. (We also had to do this on our return to Australia, however it was somewhat less detailed).
Our flight into Rome left from Doha, Qatar. Immediately we checked in to the flight, I knew we were going to experience some differences with how the pandemic was affecting people’s lives. We were given N95 masks, legally required within Italian airspace, as well as on public transport and any indoor space within the country. Some outdoor spaces, also, such as the Colosseum, where there were crowds of people.
Arriving in Italy was sobering. I had been hearing many voices in Australia for many months talking about how Melbourne had the most oppressive COVID lockdowns during the height of the pandemic. People bemoaned the fact they couldn’t see family and friends. Their freedoms were impinged upon. They were not allowed to go more than 5kms from their home. That COVID was like a bad flu.
The people of Italy, one of the places COVID first took hold, are traumatised. Not from being locked in a bubble, buffered from the horrifying reality of a disease killing thousands around you before it even had a name. Not from having their “freedoms” withdrawn temporarily, their borders closed and their health protected. But from witnessing nearly 17 million cases in their country and losing almost 165,000 fellow citizens to COVID-19. Everyone has a tragic story. Everyone has lost someone.
As I travelled around Italy for 10 days, I could see the trauma on every face. The compliance to mask rules in inside spaces is unquestioned. Everyone is following the directive. No-one is complaining about the rule, or not following it. Every restaurant, museum and art gallery checks green passes and no-one begrudges them doing so. My friend who has lived in Italy for 17 years explained to me that at one point she was not allowed out her front door together with her husband. They were able to go no more than 200 metres from their property, separately. No exercise was permitted.
Having experienced this, the notion that we in Australia have been so impacted now feels shameful and unappreciative, as well as very insulated from reality. Over the last two and a half years, I have continued to speak to friends in New York, and other places devastated by COVID. Also, to family in Canada, who were infected months before a vaccination was available. Despite this, and my keen following of world events, my perception was skewed. I could not fully comprehend the terror or the fear or the helplessness.
In the last few weeks, we have had several covid positive cases at home. Having had COVID in January, I have recently been diagnosed with long covid and am currently having a series of tests to rule out more nefarious COVID complications. Things such as pulmonary embolism or damage to the heart muscle. I still have symptoms. Every time one of the kids tests positive, I assume I have contracted it again.
My daughter, Mya, had a horrible bout of COVID that caused her sinuses to block and push the build-up of phlegm into her Eustachian tube, causing pain in her ear. It was causing her enough discomfort I took her to our local hospital. It was a Wednesday night, around 6pm. Not sure of the protocols with positive cases at the hospital, we walked gingerly toward the Emergency Department. I was shocked. It looked like a scene from an apocalyptic, dystopian, pandemic movie set.
A young girl, perhaps early 20s, sat outside in the 8°C cold and dark, in a robe and slippers. She was convulsing with fever. Removing her mask every now and then to vomit. Crying and coughing. She saw we were confused. She indicated that Mya should wait outside as she was positive. This was also, clearly, what was going on with her. I entered the triage area. The waiting room was wall to wall people. Everyone masked and many in wheelchairs. The “respiratory waiting room” was at capacity. There were about 6 people in the line ahead of me for triage. Thinking Mya had an ear infection, and the cold air would be unhelpful, I scrounged around for other options online. I found a 24-hour emergency Telehealth clinic. We left. I was extremely disturbed.
My sister-in-law, in Canada, had COVID before there were any variants. August 2020. She still has long COVID. Currently, apart from all the breathing and blood pressure issues, her fingernails are falling out.
Every time I hear someone say “post-COVID” I want to scream. We are still in the swampy, boggy mess of this life affecting disease. We know little of the long-term effects, and we are now so blasé about it, it is once again gathering speed and veracity and infecting and killing too many people.
I don’t think we have settled on this current situation as “the new normal”. I believe we have quite a way to go before we reach that understanding. The perspective that travelling and seeing the devastation has given me has changed my attitude and awareness.
As we navigate our way forward, towards an unknowable future, I hope we as a planet can be mindful of those that have been lost and those that have suffered.
Hopefully, we will also gain a greater respect for the power of nature and its ability to bring us, literally, to our knees, or worse. The warning bells are tolling louder and louder. Is this the catalyst that will finally make us listen?
