Self-isolation diaries: a 15-day sentence

Last week, my boyfriend took a routine lateral flow test before heading into the office. I watched with a strange feeling of inevitability as, for the first time in the pandemic, a faint second line appeared across the test.

Following the Euros, a steady stream of socialising over the last few weeks and a rise in cases in England, we weren’t overly surprised. We had both had our first vaccination four weeks earlier, so weren’t too concerned about the symptoms either.

In the next few days, I tested myself regularly, boasting to the Covid-afflicted around me that I was immune. Then, at the start of this week, my immune system finally surrendered and I tested positive, banishing me to an added ten days of isolation on top of the five days I had already completed.

This feels like a particularly unlucky way to catch Covid, if there is such a thing as a “lucky way”. I now have to spend half of the month in self-isolation, but I’m not the only one. Over 500,000 people are thought to have been contacted by Test and Trace last week and BBC Analysis predicts more than 4.5 million people could be asked to self-isolate before mid-August. The pandemic has evolved into a “ping-demic”.

The beautiful weather has been a blessing and a curse whilst isolating. On the one hand, for a moment, I could almost pretend I was on holiday, playing cards in the sun to pass the time (an illusion quickly shattered by outbreaks of coughing). 

The rare English sunshine, however, also meant that the outside world was at its busiest over the weekend; BBQs, parties, picnics and pool days flooded social media. At times, isolation feels harder than lockdown as everyone else continues on with their socialising – it is only you who is missing out. Ironically, for us, “Freedom Day” was a day spent dreaming of a walk around the block. 

In some ways, finally testing positive on Tuesday was a relief. Being young I am unlikely to have particularly bad side effects and at least I am now isolating for a reason. This seems to be an attitude shared amongst many of my peers – catching Covid feels all but unavoidable at the moment – better to get it now and build up antibodies than later in the summer and miss out on festivals, holidays or other highly-anticipated plans.

This mentality is a great privilege; I can work from home and haven’t needed to take any sick days so far. For many, this isn’t the case. The government’s handling of opening up makes sense if their aim is to build antibody resistance in the population before a hard winter, but for those who don’t get paid unless they turn up to work, and for emergency services finding themselves suddenly significantly understaffed, it is a disaster unfolding in front of our eyes. 

Already this week, Houghton, a festival I had planned to attend in August cancelled as they were worried that one of their staff might contract the virus and the entire team would be forced to self isolate, meaning the festival would need to be cancelled at the last minute. It seems likely other big events will soon follow suit. And, as many young people will still only have had their first vaccine by the time self-isolation rules no longer apply to the double-vaxxed in August, it will be young people who find themselves still cancelling plans and isolating. 

The NHS Test and Trace team are doing their job, it is not their fault that so many plans have been thwarted. But after what feels like the longest year of our lives, each day in self-isolation seems to drag. Things could be worse though, as my boyfriend reminds me, “you’d be pretty happy with 15 days as a prison sentence.”