by
David Hinkson
It’s a call you least expect and a difficult one to handle in these times. On Saturday, January 23 at 7:15 p.m., my phone rang and the caller at the end of the line said, “We have the results from the COVID-19 test you took on January 15. Unfortunately, your test came back positive.” My first response, uttered in complete shock and astonishment was, “Are you serious?”
Now I had received a text the week before which informed me that a work colleague had tested positive and that I should go and get myself tested as well. In the second week of January we got word that a customer who had come into our restaurant just before New Year’s Day had tested positive for COVID-19, so the staff was advised to go to the nearby polyclinic for testing and the establishment was closed for a thorough cleaning.
During the week between the test and when I got my results, my throat was feeling a bit scratchy and one night my nose was severely congested, but I attributed that to my occasional bouts of sinusitis and took some overthe- counter medication which seemed to alleviate things. COVID-19? No, you cannot be serious!
My next dilemma was “How will I tell my family about this?” given that they have been following the progress of the pandemic since it started a year ago and were pretty much fearful. And now it’s come home! So I developed even greater anxiety and fear of a backlash, for example, being asked whether I followed the protocols closely enough and being chastised for my “carelessness”.
The nurse promised to call back in another hour with further information, but I did not hear back from her that night. The next morning I called her around nine o’clock and asked for further details, such as how long I would have to stay at the centre and what I should take with me. She told me to pack outfits for 14 days and reading materials and other things I might require to while away the time. She then told me she would call the transportation, which was a Transport Board bus that was travelling all over the island picking up people who like myself had tested positive for COVID-19.
After getting dressed early and waiting anxiously and rather impatiently, I got a call just after one o’clock from the bus driver stating that he was close to where I lived and asking for specific directions. The bus eventually arrived around 1:45 p.m. The front section of the bus was cordoned off with caution tape and the crew comprised a Barbados Defence Force officer as the driver, and a nurse from the isolation centre clad in HAZMAT gear. We made four more stops, in Warrens Terrace, Shop Hill, Rock Dundo and Six Mens before we got to the Harrison Point isolation centre. There the anxiety set in again: “If I have this thing, just how bad is it? What is this place going to be like?”
When we arrived, one of the doctors from the facility came on board and gave us forms to fill out, which specified who our initial contact was in terms of how we may have contracted it, any special needs we might have had, what symptoms we were experiencing and so on.
After sitting for two hours on the bus waiting to be processed and just getting the basic blood pressure and temperature checks, I wondered, “Is that all there is to it? If this virus is so serious, how come I’m not getting a full check up to see how exactly it is progressing within me?”
After going through those checks, we were assigned to a room – a strange combination of a hospital, prison and hotel. I stayed from the Sunday evening until the Wednesday afternoon. There were two elderly gentlemen in the room with me, and a third one joined on the Tuesday night. The rooms were divided between male and female, but families were allowed to stay together. The meals were small but balanced, in that in each meal you got protein, carbohydrates, and vegetables and fruit was served on occasion as well. For example, my first meal on arrival, which was dinner, comprised a hamburger, a small serving of vegetables, sweet potatoes and Tea Time cookies for dessert. The majority of the meals, except lunch at Harrison Point, were served with water. Lunch came with a fruit juice, and yes, there were meals provided specifically for children, those with health challenges and people exempted from certain foods for religious purposes.
I must say that patients and staff were generally friendly; I did not see any negative behaviour or unpleasant attitudes from neither the patients or staff and they were always ready and willing to engage in conversation. There was no set daily routine, except for aerobics classes at 7.30 a.m. on Saturday, Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Breakfast came around 9 o’clock, lunch between 1:30 and 2:00 in the afternoon, and dinner around 6:00 to 6:30 p.m.
I did not receive any medication, and medication was only given on request to those who needed it. Since I was not seriously ill, I spent most of my days on the sun deck enjoying the view of the ocean and trying to relax as far as possible.
Every day in the early afternoon, the staff at Harrison Point posted a list of names on the notice board outlining people who would be moving to the Blackman and Gollop secondary isolation facility that day. Rather short notice, given the fact that some people had children with them and it would take them longer to get organised. Essentially, we were moved to make space for new arrivals. About two to three busloads of new patients arrived at Harrison Point every day, so because that was the main processing centre, those who had been there for a while were shipped out.
My anxiety set in again because I had heard that Blackman and Gollop was not the most pleasant environment, and I was getting tired of the confinement and longing to get home. Beyond that, there was not much to do and no ocean view to lighten my mood.
Blackman and Gollop was a dark and somewhat miserable place – unless my mind was clouded by what I had heard and its rather remote location! In fact, on arrival I looked out of the room window trying to ascertain where the nearest bus stop was! The classrooms were converted into “wards” and they were more spacious than the rooms at Harrison Point, in that they could hold between six and eight patients. Rooms were allocated similar to Harrison Point in terms of gender and families. I ate in my room, as there wasn’t anywhere else really to do so.
The food at Blackman and Gollop always arrived late – breakfast at 10:30 or 10:45, lunch around three o’clock and dinner around 7:00 in the evening. The mood I think was not as relaxed as Harrison Point, because the personnel was not as easily accessible. Compared to Harrison Point, the nurses’ station was not as easily accessible and it took about half an hour for them to process any simple request, such as securing coffee cups or laundry detergent to wash my clothes.
So after five days, it was time to go home. If only going home were that simple! I felt a sense of relief and apprehension at the same time. In the absence of comprehensive medical checks, was I really free from this virus?
What if I go back into civilisation and pick it up all over again? How will people react if I tell them I had it? Will they run from me as if I had leprosy, or will they expect me to walk around in a HAZMAT suit the rest of my days, or till this pandemic ends, whichever comes first?
Anxiety was the main emotional trauma I suffered when I heard I had tested positive. Prior to that, I didn’t lose much sleep over it; just accepted these were the times we were in and did my best to follow the necessary protocols.
What else could I do? However, there are some people, those who have not even experienced it, whose anxiety borders on paranoia. I believe one of the main reasons for it is the endless stream of information about the pandemic coming from myriad sources, some credible, some not so much, from day one, and it is increasingly difficult to figure out what is true and what is a fabrication.
I didn’t blame myself for what happened. I just resolved within myself to be a bit more vigilant about the protocols when I go out and to just get on with the business of living once again. To reduce some of the anxiety, I would suggest switching off from COVID-19 news for a while. Catch up on some favourite movies, TV shows or music, read a book, or if you have a hobby you haven’t pursued for a while, get back into it.
During my time at Harrison Point, I spoke to the resident psychologist, Dr Felicia Gill, who advised: “See this experience as a new lease on life. Use the days in quarantine to relax and think of the goals you want to achieve, and once you come out, start working diligently towards them.”
“HOW WILL I
TELL MY FAMILY ABOUT THIS?”
I MUST
SAY THAT
PATIENTS
AND STAFF WERE
GENERALLY
FRIENDLY
