Of all the places one would expect to find oneself after proclaiming to the world the self-isolation is inevitable, here I am waiting in a snot-infested pharmacy at the good ol’ Royal Free Hospital.
Never mind that I woke up at 5am to be here when the place opened. Never mind that I was told just days ago by the very same hospital to stay away unless absolutely necessary, that I am at high-risk and should put measures in place to social distance myself.
The transplant team forgot to phone in my prescription and I been instructed to take a seat, and wait.
Surprisingly, none of the staff here seem at all bothered by my frustration. It is a vast reminder that as precious as we all feel we are, at the end of the day we are but a mere pool of cells and it is down to Darwin’s Survival of the Fittest. In this moment and uncertain of my own survival despite feeling perfectly well, I don’t feel very fit.
I have been told that the medications I am on will both save my life, and put me in the highest risk category. I am here today at the Rogal Free Hospital not only to pick up my anti-rejection pills, but also to have a third infusion of a medication my doctors feel is crucial for me to stave off the inflammation associated with my underlying digestive disease. Ironically, they called me in to embark on this slow-dripping solution at a time when I feel particularly okay.
Next to me a man complains of feeling unwell, he is sweating and is concerned for his and others’ safety. He strongly requests to speak with a manager as those around him in line teeter anxiously and back away.
As my own anxiety increases, I beg the ill-equipped pharmacist to post my medication in the mail. After 20 minutes of self soothing behaviour (namely chanting softly to myself), the mask-clad woman concedes and asks me to write my address on her notepaper. She assured me that though it may take some time, the parcel will arrive.
Now as I wait for my infusion, the fantastical mind of Lizzie dances between storylines of a revolution breaking out in the line of the pharmacy due to my fever-ridden friend who wreaks havoc and infests the WHOLE WORLD, and the pool of everlasting peace that awaits me if I could just get the hell out of this cesspool of germs.
Maybe I should just surrender and start social distancing tomorrow?