Tales of Lockdown from a spoonie.

Day 1 

I sat with my glass of wine, watching Boris tell us all what we knew was coming. Regardless, it’s still a shock. We’re in lock down.

 I have a cry. I call my mum. 

Photo by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash

Day 2-5 

People have continued to panic buy, including ibuprofen. I take ibuprofen daily to control my endo pain as advised by my doctor. I go without for a day or two before my wonderful colleagues and manager club together and bulk buy me my own supply. A few days later there’s a few incidents of people becoming seriously ill when using ibuprofen to treat covid19 symptoms. As horrible as this is of course it means I can now continue to have access to my medication. 

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash

Day 5-7 

I realise I signed up to the Echo app to get my prescriptions posted through the door at just the right moment. I’m still working as a Veterinary Nurse during lock down so finding time to go and collect my meds is getting trickier by the day. People are queuing up outside to try and maintain social distancing and there’s still no paracetamol to be seen. My UK readers can find the echo service here.

Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash

Days 8-11 

We’ve finally reached a degree of normalcy within the madness. We have a routine. I go to work, travel home on the bus, step through the front door and strip off my clothes to wash and then shower. We sit and play cards in the evening and re watch TV shows we’d long forgotten. 

Work becomes harder. We try our best not to see any clients but continue to treat their pets as best we can. It’s hard not being able to care for our furry (or not so furry) patients the way we normally would. Emergencies still happen. Most owners are wonderful, thoughtful and understanding. Some owners shout at us and tell us we’re doing a bad job.

I realise the stress of living in a lock down has made my endo pain flare up. I go to bed with tramadol for 3 days and wake up feeling okay with the world much like it was.

Photo by Ivan Rojas Urrea on Unsplash

Days 12-14

I’ve got my endo pain under control somewhat. I travel to my doctor’s surgery to have my monthly Prostap injection. (Also known as Lupron). My temperature is checked before I enter the building and I’m given a mask and gloves. The nurse who I see  looks tired and overwhelmed. They’ve lost 2 doctors to self isolation and she is now triaging a large number of patients herself over the phone.  I’m forever grateful we have the NHS.

Photo by Tugce Gungormezler on Unsplash

Days 14-17

Easter weekend is approaching. I’m not religious but this weekend we normally would have spent the time with friends and family. So of course this makes me sad but the lack of pressure to be well and socialise does me good. I happily do what I probably would have done anyway. Sit and watch TV, have a bath and lie in bed. Somehow this is now more acceptable. 

Photo by Caterina Begliorgio on Unsplash

We’re nearly three weeks in and we have a long way to go. The thing that has affected me the most is people panic buying medications that I would normally take on a daily basis to try and avoid taking my opioid pain meds. The thing I’m most thankful for is our back garden and the nice weather, and my biggest revelation is that some of those that are chronically ill or disabled were living some kind of lockdown life already. 

Photo by hue12 photography on Unsplash


  1. Aw, it’s definitely harder at the minute! I have a similar method when coming home from work – I change my clothes at work and dump everything in a box by the door (phone, purse, etc.) to wipe clean later then hop straight into the shower. I hope it gets easier for you, and that you manage to continue having access to your medication.

    Take care and stay safe,
    Sophie | Love and Literature x


  2. Something to look back on when we go back to normality… remembering the year the earth stood still! Such a good read, loving it!

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