Number of days since lockdown: 65

Number of people who have visited my blog since I first started writing it: 1,028

Number of times a day I check the above: once or twice (but remember I am an unreliable narrator.)

I may have mentioned in the past that my sister Lydia can be quite annoying. She is one of those people who always knows best. And who is never backward in expressing an opinion. She is also usually right. And most irritating of all, she tends to reach the right conclusion much quicker than me.

So when she started saying on Saturday, the day that Mum left the hospice and came to stay with me, that we need to arrange for her to visit Dad in hospital, I thought that is all very well for you to say, Lydia, but they will never agree to it.

And all through the weekend, during which our WhatsApp messages became increasingly peppered with disgust at the sheer audacity of Dominic Cummings and Boris Johnson taking us all for mugs, we talked about how Mum was doing and how sad it was that she kept asking to see Dad. And all I could do was think about all the things I had to do to look after her and the difficulties of getting her there.

But all of a sudden yesterday I came to the same conclusion as Lydia. Which is this. That Mum has had the virus, therefore she must at least have some immunity. And therefore a visit to Dad in hospital is not a highly risky thing for her to do. And that whilst there is a shortage of gowns and masks etc, what better use could be made of just one set of them so that our mother could spend just a few minutes with our father, possibly for the last time. And that if she doesn’t see him, she may never be able to accept that he has had a massive stroke and is unlikely to get better. And while seeing him like that will be very, very upsetting for her, not seeing him will be even worse.

And when I reached that conclusion, I didn’t feel cross with my sister for a change. I just felt cross with myself with not having realised all this sooner.

I don’t know what Lydia said to them at the hospital, or how many times she had to ring and threaten to go over people’s heads and not accept no for an answer. It may have helped that everyone working in the NHS must be feeling furious about the fact that so many people had missed meeting new grandchildren or holding the hands of dying loved ones because of lockdown, while the odious Cummings swanned around breaking the rules and making excuses that would be laughable if they weren’t so self-serving.

Anyway, at 3pm she rang me and said that we could go. She said that we were to get there at 6pm and that a nurse would meet us outside A and E.

So Mum and I discussed what she should wear, and she muttered about the state of her hair, and I tried to persuade her to have something to eat and she of course refused. And I helped her get into my car and we drove to the hospital and got there far too early. But eventually on the dot of 6pm, there was the nurse waiting outside A and E with a wheelchair. It was a bit like exchanging a prisoner on a bridge, except I didn’t get to take anyone in return. I will never forget seeing her being wheeled away, looking tiny but determined.

The nurse had said she would text me when it was time to collect Mum. So I parked the car – hospitals have plenty of parking spaces at the moment – and went for a little walk and thought about my parents and how my mother is lost without the slightly anxious but at the same time steadying presence of my father. And about him being all alone in that hospital.

And I cried for them both.

And then my phone beeped and I went back to A and E and there was my mother sitting in the wheelchair looking even smaller.

I helped her into the car and we drove home in silence. When we got in she said she thought she would go to bed. So I helped her upstairs and to get undressed and she got into bed and lay on her side facing away from me.

I said I’d go and make her a cup of tea. And she said, thank you Sadie.

I was going to message Brian and tell him not to come round after all, but in the end I forgot. So we sat in the garden and I told him about my day and he listened in that really intense, thoughtful way of his. And although I was desperate for him to hold me, we agreed that we were better than Dominic Cummings and that we needed to work out a way to see one another without breaking the lockdown rules. And that for now, sitting in the garden two metres apart would have to do.

And then he went home and I went to check on Mum and she was still just lying there wide awake. So I got onto the bed next to her and put my arms round her and stayed there all night.

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