I gave my mum a lecture about toilet flush plume. A short, quite shouty lecture.
“If you don’t close the lid the room gets filled with germs and the germs get on the toothbrushes and everyone gets coronavirus!”
This was late June. My parents had travelled 100km from Melbourne to Ballarat to visit me – the first time we’d seen each other in four months.
I hadn’t planned to let them in the house. “You can only come over,” I’d said, “if you promise to stay outside.” If you’ve never been to Ballarat in winter, just think Melbourne, only more refreshing (i.e. chilblain heaven).
At this point, the coronavirus numbers were looking pretty good. Especially in regional areas. The “new cases” line was back on the x-axis where it belonged. People were chucking out their sourdough starter and heading to the pub.
Well. The restrictions may have been relaxed, but I wasn’t.
I’m sure a lot of people have coronavirus anxiety right now... for anyone with, say, hypochondria – this is not a good time.
I stuck to my word. I forced my parents to stand in the garden and drink Nescafe from their own thermos. The icy wind blew right through their insipid Melbourne jumpers. They looked cheerful enough, but in hindsight I think those smiles were chattering teeth.
Anyway, all that coffee – of course they had to use the toilet before the long drive home. And it didn’t occur to me to mention the toilet lid rules until after they’d been. Which was too late.
Needless to say, I boiled the toothbrushes, washed the towels and sterilised the surfaces.
And then I got a sore throat.
I’m sure a lot of people have coronavirus anxiety right now. Even normally calm humans might be feeling a bit on edge. So for anyone with a pre-existing tendency to worry excessively – for anyone with, say, hypochondria – this is not a good time.
Throughout my twenties and early thirties I had MS, kidney failure, liver disease, ovarian cancer, meningitis, a blood clot in my lung … Only I didn’t, obviously. Physically, I was incredibly healthy. It was my brain that needed help.
Running is my medicine. Source: Gordon Flynn
Then I took up running and, hey presto, no more illness anxiety. It sounds simplistic, but it’s true. Running is my medicine.
So back in April, when lockdown 1.0 was in full swing, I was feeling great. “I’m loving iso,” I’d say to anyone (via Zoom). Trying to work and home-school and keep the household going was exhausting, but I kept calm and carried on.
The worse the corona situation got, the more I ran, and the more I ran, the easier it was to cope.
However, as any runner knows, upping the kms too quickly always leads to disaster. In my case: Achilles tendinitis. And the internet’s medical advice: “Don’t run for eight weeks”.
I tried to keep active. I made myself a standing desk (books under the keyboard). I lifted weights during virtual (audio-only) staff meetings. It wasn’t the same.
My mental health deteriorated.
The decline was probably gradual. I don’t remember. I just know that I was okay, and then I wasn’t. I’ve been miserable before. This was different. I didn’t feel miserable; I felt nothing. And believe me, feeling nothing is far worse.
I avoided my friends. Didn’t speak to my husband. Stopped hanging out with my children.
I shouted at my mother for flushing the toilet.
I took my sore throat to the nose swab clinic. I wringed my hands for five days straight. My chest was tight. I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. Death seemed imminent.
The test came back negative.
Shortly after this, my Achilles stopped hurting. Ironically, I didn’t feel like running anymore. I was all out of mojo. But in my heart I knew what I had to do. I had to put on my sneakers.
I mean, jogging and crying isn’t a great look, but it’s better than sitting on the couch and crying.
I didn’t arrive home from that first run “back to normal”. There was no elation, no sudden change. But I was able to make myself run again. And again. Not too far, and not every day, but regularly enough. Eventually, I stopped catastrophising about illnesses I didn’t have and started enjoying the company of my family again.
Now – despite the mountainous graphs and global uncertainty – I am feeling okay, and I plan on staying that way. So I will keep on running (within regulations, of course). If restrictions tighten and I end up completely housebound, I guess I’ll have to do a hallway marathon à la Pan Shancu.
And when lockdown is over, I might even let my parents come inside my house. As long as they promise to close the toilet lid when they flush.
Jean Flynn is a freelance writer. She appeared on Insight episode Min vs Body - full episode is now streaming on SBS On Demand.
People in Australia must stay at least 1.5 metres away from others. Check your state’s restrictions on gathering limits.
If you are experiencing cold or flu symptoms, stay home and arrange a test by calling your doctor or contact the Coronavirus Health Information Hotline on 1800 020 080.
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The full list of restrictions can be found here.
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