Embracing the Coronavirus Anger

I like to think of how I would react during times of crisis. I want to believe I’m the hero. Sadly I know I’m the woman cowering at the back of the wardrobe or hoping I’m killed in the first blast/bite/wave. However much I joke about ‘apocalypse’ training, I’m not sure how well I would manage.

So here we are in the middle of a pandemic and it turns out I’m not scared. I mean I am a bit; no-one wants to die in the liquid remains of their own lungs. But mostly I am just really, really pissed off.

No make that absolutely f*cking furious. I am judgmental (sometimes hypocritically judgmental, which makes me even more cross and angry as then I get crushing amounts of self guilt), I am angry, I am bitter and honestly, this is a rant. I apologise as usually I concentrate on scientific evidence and our amazing lady parts, but as a hormonal pregnant woman whose said bits are increasingly swollen these days, I am going to just let rip.

I am angry with the Government who have systematically underfunded, over-run and undermined the NHS and who they are now calling on us all, patronisingly and fatuously, to protect as though they haven’t been slowly stripping it for parts and over working and under paying nurses, midwives, doctors and f*cking admin staff for over 10 years.

I am angry Dominic Rabb doesn’t feel it’s even worth talking about upping nurses pay when they seem to be dropping like flies due to a lack of decent or appropriate PPE and despite his party being warned in 2011 that they needed to keep stocks up for a pandemic just like this. I want to slap Dominic Cummings for talking about herd immunity and sacrificing pensioners. I am incandescent that BJ, our esteemed leader has managed to catch it after refusing to stop shaking hands, has now wound up going into hospital and putting pressure on the institution he wants us all to protect by NOT shaking hands and that now he has given it to his freaking pregnant girlfriend (I should add he is now in intensive care so I feel guilty for saying all of the above; another on the guilt tally). Don’t get me started on some of the people out there clapping the NHS after voting for this party.

Or the tests. Where the f*ck are all the f*cking tests??

I am furious my friend’s retired parents are being pressured to going back into nursing or working as doctors again, despite being in their late 60s and 70s, so well into the ‘at risk’ category after doing their time at the coal face. Make that f*cking furious. I am f*cking, f*cking furious and upset and worried.

I am angry for the pregnant women, especially the first-time mums out there who are having a sh*t sandwich time of being pregnant. They expected so much more.

They expected fluffy baby showers, and gender reveals and scans where their partners could actually attend, and shopping for cute sh*t they will never really use and sharing it all with their friends and family and having their partners be present with them for longer than an hour after the birth. And they are giving this up for excellent reasons – they are protecting those amazing midwives and slowing the spread etc. but that doesn’t mean I am not still REALLY ANGRY ABOUT IT. I am angry that information is not being properly communicated and that pregnant front line staff were still being expected to work up until a week or so ago in a high risk environment when we have scanty evidence at best that this virus doesn’t affect birth outcomes.

I have a pelvis that is slowly separating, radiating pain into my thighs and up my back. The pain keeps me awake at night when I need to be sleeping so I can be up and about to look after my toddler, not screaming like a mad banshee or downing coffee in front of the TV watching Clangers on repeat. I also have peri-natal depression. And all of my appointments have been cancelled. I am one of the lucky ones who can afford to pay for some personal care online. What about those women who have none of that and who just have to manage the f*ck along??

If you were about to start IVF, fertility investigations or were mid IVF cycle, that’s gone up the sh*tter; money and time and investment all gone and there you are, sat at home staring at all those fatuous posts about the Coronavirus baby boom that will happen knowing you won’t be a part of it.

One of my friends is stuck in a flat in California unable to move due to her knee op being cancelled trying to cope with supporting a toddler and her disabled father. Another is trying to work fulltime alongside her husband with two kids under 4. They watch a lot of cartoons. They are amazing. They are struggling.

Half my friends have lost their jobs or will lose their jobs. They worked hard to keep their businesses running and build them up. Everyone is stuck at home. Most of us have gardens. Imagine those poor bastards who are in flats. If we get banged up without even our one allowed walk, where the heck do they spend their time? And when they do go out I see posts on facebook about how they shouldn’t be playing football as a family in the park or using a canal tow path that was within walking distance of their house.

Everyone is apparently a f*king critic these days and doing it better than everyone else. Even me. I am so judgemental of others my husband has taken to reminding me when I start getting sanctimonious. We cannot talk, he reminds me. Desperate, we have isolated for 14 days and then moved in with my parents (who have done the same). I can barely lift my own toddler but I feel panicked every time I think about how I might have infected my parents now we have merged households. Every time I hear ‘stay at home’ I feel pangs of guilt.

How are those women seeking refuge from abusive relationships managing in sheltered accommodation with scanty belongings and their kids with no familial support? How are working single parents managing to keep going? How are half the kids in poverty in the UK being fed?

But most of all, I want to find the person who first ate/had sex with/licked that bat or snake or whatever and started this entire mess and ram this entire piece down their throat, lap top and all. I am irrationally and nonsensically the most angry with you, you steaming, bastarding toss pot.

I can’t own half of these things. Most of this is me screaming into the void. But it has made me feel a bit better expressing it.

It’s ok to be angry it turns out. It’s ok to feel useless, hypocritical, guilty and judgemental. It’s ok to want to unfairly scream at your husband because you are finding climbing the stairs hard today and he doesn’t get how you are trying to work around being a full-time mum when he gets to have his 8 hours tucked away in his office and you don’t get to have a break, even though you would never had said ‘work’ was a break before. Or admit that you actually just want to stay in bed with a bottle of gin and tonic in the morning and can’t as you have to get up and move and look after a small person and not inflict fetal alcohol syndrome on your unborn child.

It’s normal. It’s natural. It isn’t your fault. Sure, go meditate. Go do mindfulness and start a hobby. But embrace the anger as well. Admit where it lies, accept it and give it credence.

Most of all, fuck Coronovirus. Fuck it right up the arse.

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