As a human rights journalist I’ve been in a few tight spots,
so I’m not easily fazed. Finding myself living in a village with at least five cases
of Coronavirus, several others in self-isolation and an asthmatic child, I
don’t mind admitting that I’m mild to moderately unsettled.
It’s not so much the outbreak itself, but the realisation
that the regional infrastructure isn’t in place to deal with it. Government
advises against travelling to affected areas overseas, but they clearly didn’t
plan for “affected areas” being here in Ireland. So, for the past week, they
just pretended it wasn’t happening. The more the community cried out for advice,
the deeper into lockdown the agencies went.
The measures announced by the Taoiseach on Thursday, whilst
welcome, amount to shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. On
Wednesday, while the WHO urged aggressive action in order to avoid Italy’s
mistakes, the Chief Medical Officer, Dr Tony Holohan, reprimanded hospitals and
care homes for restricting visitors, undermining their attempts to keep our
vulnerable safe.
Last week, the WHO warned that the window of opportunity to
prevent a Coronavirus pandemic was rapidly closing and urged governments to
take drastic and immediate action. At the same time, 20,000 people travelled
from Ireland to Cheltenham and were not tested nor isolated on their return.
On Wednesday, the pandemic was official. Containment had
failed and a conversation I had with the regional Public Health Team, on
Tuesday, left me in no doubt how this crucial phase was botched.
In a community where there are at least 5 confirmed cases of
Coronavirus, the actual number is likely to be significantly higher. Analysis
of Wuhan’s retrospective trajectory, shows that on a day when 444 cases were
recorded, it had 27 times that number and, in the UK, where there are
officially 1,140 cases, Boris Johnson admitted the true figure
could be around 10,000.
I asked the public health official why they hadn’t closed
the local schools as a precaution?
No need. A risk assessment had been done and there’s no
evidence that closures need to take place.
But, I reasoned, one week ago, there was only one confirmed
case in the country, today there are 24, 18% of which appear to be in my
community. Surely that’s evidence that the schools should be closed to prevent
further contagion within the community – as a precaution? Isn’t that what
containment means?
No, there’s nothing to see here, move along please and wash
your hands on the way out.
That was last Tuesday, one week later, there are 292
confirmed cases and two deaths from Coronavirus in Ireland.
I raised concerns too about the robustness of the contact
tracing system locally. People who think they should have been contacted,
haven’t. This issue was raised in the British medical journal, The
Lancet, recently. The system relies on infected people remembering
all of their interactions for up to two weeks when they were asymptomatic but contagious.
Even when people presented with symptoms, up until Friday,
GPs were prevented from testing for community transmission. If it’s not tested,
there’s no official record and if there’s no official record, Dr Holohan can
continue boasting about the low number of community transmissions.
When dealing with a virulent disease with high mortality
rates and no cure, prevention is the only effective weapon in our armoury. If
we don’t stem the spread of contagion now, our already fragile health
infrastructure will collapse.
All schools and universities are now closed but it’s not
enough. Our case exposed the lack of regional capacity to act rapidly in
response to community outbreaks, enforcing lockdown where high incidences
occur. Instead, the contagion was allowed to spread.
Our community is rallying. Weaving a patchwork quilt of
kindness and compassion. Social media is awash with offers of support, the local
shop is providing free, confidential deliveries to people self-isolating,
Extinction Rebellion are running errands and walking dogs and my son forages
for kindling to leave at elderly neighbours’ doors. Every single act of
kindness is another square in the collective quilt and, for everyone that falls
ill in this community, there is comfort in the knowledge that there’s someone
there to catch them.
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