“THE DOCTOR WANTED ME TO SLEEP FOR A FEW HOURS, BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO. I THOUGHT, ‘IF I GO TO SLEEP, I MIGHT NEVER WAKE UP”
By the time I was 38, I’d lost all of my family. My dad died when I was 11, at which point my grandfather became like my father. I lost him when I was 26. My mother passed away 18 years ago, making my grandmother the last to go three months later. She died of a broken heart – people don’t often see their daughters go before them. I saw two of the four on their deathbeds, so I understand a little more about what dying is about.
Or at least I thought I did. Until you experience getting what might have been close to death yourself, you can never know what it’s like. I knew I was ill with coronavirus, but it was only when I was back home and recovering months after that I truly understood what happened.
When I returned to hospital, my specialist told me, ‘I don’t think you realise how bad you were’. I asked her to spell it out. ‘Death,’ she said.
I’ve always tried to look after myself as much as I could, and I’d say that I was pretty fit for a 57-year-old. I exercise regularly and go to the gym, try to eat the right things, and alcohol has never been a big part of my life. If I’m in the right company I’ll enjoy an occasional beer or glass of wine, but I’d never walk into a pub unless I’ve gone out for a meal or something.
Before catching coronavirus, I hardly ever even got coughs or colds. I’ve been
