How life changes – moving to a care home during a pandemic

My journey continues. I am alcohol dependent and have mental health issues. My liver is not working properly, I have a stoma, pancreatitis and peripheral neuropathy (whatever that means). All I really know is that I am not well. I am not asking for sympathy but help and support.

My family fought hard and now I am finally receiving full care, my home is now a residential care home and I feel safe. Who would have thought it would take nearly 5 years to get the support I have been crying out for? I know this is not a long term solution, but it is giving me the time to stabilise my health conditions and hopefully allow me time to reflect upon the reasons why I went down the route of alcohol dependency. 

Life in a care home during a pandemic is not all plain sailing. I had only one visit a week behind a screen for the first few weeks which was a bit intimidating and frankly quite scary – I felt like I was in prison. The screens have now gone and I now have 2 people visiting which is an improvement, but I am still not allowed out. The government are talking about the road map out of lockdown with people being able to meet up outdoors and even in gardens. This is not a privilege I am entitled to. I have some appreciation of the need to keep people safe and protected, but wellbeing is so much more than reducing the risk of me getting coronavirus. I want to see family and friends and do some normal things, like meet up in a park. 

The rules in here also take some time getting used to. I can’t make my own appointments to go and see my doctor, dentist, optician or stoma clinic, I have to run this by the care home to make sure someone is able to take me – fair enough, I suppose, but it seems like I am losing control. I am now fully dependent upon the staff. Meal times are regimented, activities are more geared up to the older members living in the home and although there are people around me I feel lonely. If anyone brings me in sweets, drinks, books – things have to be quarantined for 72 hours, yet a staff member can go to the shop and buy people a daily paper. It makes no sense? 

Most of my income now goes to pay for me to live here – £148 per week. People may say this is cheap at half the price and I suppose they have a point but already I am thinking that one day I might have to leave and live independently – I have no savings and not a stick of furniture to my name. It would be nice to be in a position to set aside a few quid to help me have some financial security, but alas that is a luxury I cannot afford. 

I am safe and I am thankful that my family never gave up on me – so I will continue to take it all one day at a time.