Newslink March 2021
Motor Schools Association of Great Britain membership magazine; driver training and testing; road safety; general motoring matters
Motor Schools Association of Great Britain membership magazine; driver training and testing; road safety; general motoring matters
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About our members<br />
Photo 1: Attacked by a starfish Photo 2: Into the hood.... Photo 3: Respite... of sorts<br />
So this Covid thing...<br />
As reported in <strong>Newslink</strong>, MSA<br />
Scotland committee member Brian<br />
Thomson contracted Covid-19 in<br />
the autumn. What followed was a<br />
harrowing month-long fight for life<br />
at Dundee’s Ninewell’s Hospital.<br />
Here he takes us through his<br />
illness, treatment and recovery as<br />
a salutary warning to all ADIs: you<br />
take this virus lightly at your peril!<br />
So, this Covid thing has been about<br />
for a while now and, just like<br />
everyone else, I am wishing things<br />
could get back to normal as soon as<br />
possible.<br />
When we got back to teaching students<br />
after the first lockdown in August it was<br />
great. Yes, we had all the new things to do<br />
but we were expertly guided by the MSA<br />
GB so we could follow the agreed<br />
guidelines from the DVSA. So what if we<br />
had to wear masks all day and wipe down<br />
touchpoints between every lesson and<br />
every journey, which in my case meant<br />
doing a cleaning routine 12 times per day;<br />
I didn’t mind because it allowed me to<br />
work and the students to progress with the<br />
driving.<br />
Now, being of a certain age (!), I received<br />
my invitation to attend our local GP<br />
practice for my annual flu jab and on<br />
Saturday, 17th October I duly turned up. I<br />
was impressed with the slickness of the<br />
set-up due to this thing called Covid; there<br />
we were in a socially distanced line that<br />
moved at a steady pace, keeping the five or<br />
six doctors/nurses supplied with patients<br />
with already rolled-up sleeves. We shuffled<br />
along the corridors like some sort of sect; I<br />
didn’t even sit down for the jab... it was a<br />
case of in the door, confirm you’re you and<br />
the deed was already done. Things were<br />
going well...<br />
Now, normally I do not have any reaction<br />
to the flu jab but this one did give me a<br />
slight pain in the shoulder, and by the<br />
following Wednesday (21st) I was not<br />
feeling the best. On Thursday evening I<br />
was sitting in my armchair shivering like<br />
there is no tomorrow (how close was that<br />
thought) and my grandson, who was<br />
staying with me at the time, suggested I<br />
call up for a Covid test. I did as requested<br />
and got a test on the Friday (22nd) and<br />
received a positive result on Saturday<br />
(23rd) with an accompanying letter<br />
advising me to stay at home, in bed. Again,<br />
I did exactly as recommended.<br />
The problem with the last instruction<br />
when you’re on your own, as I was, is that<br />
sometimes you don’t notice yourself getting<br />
any worse but by Wednesday (October<br />
28th) I did have the feeling that things<br />
were not ‘right’. I called the NHS 24-hour<br />
hotline and at some point after that I was<br />
aware of someone sitting on the edge of<br />
the bed telling me that “my body was<br />
shutting down” and she had arranged for<br />
an ambulance to take me to Ninewells<br />
hospital in Dundee as soon as possible.<br />
I don’t/cannot recall everything that<br />
happened after that; when I closed my<br />
eyes my mind showed me things that I did<br />
not want to see (apparently, I was<br />
hallucinating). But I do know that on the<br />
evening of October 28th I landed in a side<br />
ward in Ninewells where staff fitted me<br />
with a mask that felt like a massive starfish<br />
had clamped itself onto my face (photo 1)<br />
This blasted air into my lungs to<br />
hopefully clear out the Covid. This didn’t<br />
work, however, and within 11 hours things<br />
had deteriorated to the point of having to<br />
be transferred to Intensive Care Unit 3<br />
(ICU3) and put in a ‘hood’ (photo 2). That<br />
is fitted with a special exhaust valve that<br />
when I exhaled it vibrated to try and<br />
dislodge the ‘sticky’ Covid cells from my<br />
lungs. I spent a lot of time in that hood, it<br />
would be removed for meals or for short<br />
periods to give me a break (photo 3), but<br />
to be truthful I preferred the hood to the<br />
breathing tube that delivered warm oxygen<br />
directly to the nose, (notice also that I’m<br />
now sporting a ‘clause’). Even with all this<br />
medical gadgetry, however, it didn’t stop<br />
this thing called Covid collapsing one of my<br />
lungs and letting air escape out under my<br />
skin, causing tenderness and swelling in<br />
the chest and arms. Again the medical<br />
profession stepped up to the plate and<br />
stuck a chest drain in through my left ribs<br />
and give me tablets to combat the swelling.<br />
So, after watching the ICU staff come<br />
and go for over two weeks wearing three<br />
38<br />
NEWSLINK n MARCH <strong>2021</strong>
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