It wasn’t all gloom and doom though, especially at the start. The morale was high and team spirit was it its peak. All of us working within the NHS were put on this esteemed pedestal and appreciated to no end for all we did. We were motivated to go the extra mile, be flexible with redeployment, stepping up and stepping down in our job roles, moving departments and even hospitals for a single cause – how to best care for patient during the pandemic. There were weekly “Claps for Carers” and Project Wingman where pilots and cabin crew set up makeshift BA lounges at every hospital give us first-class snacks and company. We had discounted Uber rides and Deliveroo meals, queue jump for supermarkets and the town was painted in blue and rainbows in support of our profession. Heart-warming stories, most notably of Captain Tom Moore’s dedication came alight and The Anthem “You’ll Never Walk Alone” sung by Michael Ball, Captain Moore and The NHS Voices of Care became UK’s No.1 Single. This was all on a national level. On a personal level, I had the warmth of new friendships. I had a fabulous team at work and at a time where I couldn’t meet and seek support from my own friends and family, my colleagues became both friends and family as we shared a once in a lifetime experience of being front-line pandemic “heroes.” Despite the little joys, the undercurrent of fear and loss never left.

The initial rush of kindness and camaraderie within the NHS that pervaded over the summer of 2020 was replaced with hopelessness, dejection, and exhaustion by the winter. I had very little reserve left. We had seen enough; we have been through enough. We had seen enough patients whose lives were sadly cut short by COVID; we had seen enough tears of families and friends. Yes, there were miracle stories of those who pulled through despite the odds, but the truth is, COVID is a bitch. If it decides to take over, no medicine can stop that. And we knew that all too often the main treatment for COVID was and still is empathy and support for families who were losing their loved ones. Empathy and support, two seemingly simple things that are emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted selves were finding it harder and harder to give. In addition to all this, hospitals had been on emergency mode for all too long. All other so-called ‘routine’ medical problems were put on a back burner and ignored. But they couldn’t be ignored any longer. Because “routine” medical problems aren’t optional. There are real issues which need to be addressed. There are patients who can’t walk because of the tremendous pain from their arthritis, they need their hip replacements. What about the scans and investigations for the patients who might have cancer? You don’t need to be a medic to point the obvious that you can’t keep delaying these cancer diagnoses. All these patients labelled as “routine” – well, they are not. They have suffered far too long and have been very co-operative all along the way. They understood why their surgery got delayed for the third time, they understood why their families couldn’t come visit them in hospital. It was time they got their treatment.

As 2020 was approaching the end, the UK became the first country to begin vaccinating its population, our hopes were lifted and for a moment we though this nightmare might be coming at and end. But this flutter of hope vanished in a blink. The Kent COVID variant surged with vehement force, cancelling Christmas, and crushed us back to square one. Only this time it was worse. The patients were sicker and younger. Hospitals had run out of beds. The motivation, energy and camaraderie of healthcare staff had burnt out. The country was in for a long trial. We were busier than ever before. We couldn’t stop the “routine” medical things to make space for COVID anymore, and the virus was overwhelming hospitals like it hadn’t before. Even though we should technically have been more having gone through 9 months of this, but the confusion and despair was fiercely palpable. It felt like my workload had suddenly quadrupled and I was too tired to face it. There was no outlet to unwind, relax and recharge. Things we took for granted pre-pandemic didn’t exist. We couldn’t go out for dinner post work. Spas, cinemas, and weekend getaways – not an option. My support system shattered, and I couldn’t meet my friends and family again. This time we could barely support ourselves never mind our colleagues. It was a lonely affair. I felt like I was dumped in a dark ocean, and I had to keep swimming frantically to stay afloat with no shore in sight. There were new deadly variants cropping up in different parts of the world, whether it be Brazil, South Africa or India and it was only a matter of time it wreaked havoc in UK. This continued for months on end, and it seemed even the weather had caught up on the melancholy. The grey clouds and drizzle dominated the summer months and we had no real sunshine in summer 2021. I had learnt by now that having hope today equated to being disappointed in the future. So, I didn’t hope and convinced myself that normality now was a thing of the past.

But July 19th dawned, and lockdown was lifted. The vaccines began to show their effects, the death rates were all time low, and the clouds were finally beginning to clear. The deep dark waters were beginning to get brighter and shallower, and the shore was approaching in sight. COVID passports were materialising, and countries were once again opening their doors. Starved of sunlight, family time and selfcare, I decided it was time to escape and change out of this gloom gear of life.

Planning a holiday was a demanding affair. There were new nuances like the million and one rules and regulations about red lists, amber lists, green lists, vaccinated, or unvaccinated, lateral flows and PCRs test, fit to fly certificates and passenger locator forms. Aside from this, my family had grown older and 20 months of lockdown later, my sister had also become a doctor. We had gone from siblings who were predominantly students to predominantly front-line NHS staff. And for my sister and I to be granted leave at the same time….nightmare. We had to go through multiple rounds of leave rejection and pleas to finally get 5 days which overlapped. You would think getting leave that you are entitled to should be a simpler process? But never mind, grievances aside, we had dates set and we had begun to plan!!

We went to this quaint little town called Alcudia, in the Balearic Islands. One of the biggest deciding factors in going to Mallorca was the favourable flight cost of £38 return ticket which helped me make peace with the additional £255 our family of five had to fish out for our COVID tests. We booked a lovely seafront apartment on Airbnb because a treat was long overdue. Who knew five days of sun, sea, sleep, good food and family could be so healing? I felt my muscles unclenching, my brain fog clearing and my heart warming. I began to re-learn the delights of simple evening strolls without a clear destination. The gentle breeze and the sounds of the waves lapping up on the sands meandered its way in the night through my bedroom window making the perfect lullaby. I couldn’t remember the last time I had the excitement coursing through my veins on waking up. For the first time in forever, I couldn’t wait to start my day. I could allow myself to get lost in a book reading on the beach without having to repeatedly check the clock. The time was all mine, I could own it rather than be controlled by it. This felt very very new but very very good. I had time to sit back and appreciate the world around me- the sunrise, my family, the ice-cream, the yummy paella of this restaurant round the corner. All these things I could theoretically have back in England, but how much more you appreciate them more when you have the moment to savour them. My body and brain clock seemed to be resetting and I finally began to feel like my old self again.

And then, I had to return to England…..

I came back to a PETROL CRISIS!! Pretty much every single petrol station had run out of fuel. Getting to work was a struggle enough, but the struggle was so much harder when you had to queue for hours and even then, may or may not get fuel. This all seemed like a surreal joke. Would you believe something like would happen in a first world country? Even back in Pakistan, you could have petrol prices rise but to run out of the entire thing was not on the cards. Who knows why this was, but something to do with Brexit and shortage of drivers and that is unnerving. Can post Brexit post COVID Britain grind to a halt, literally and metaphorically? Even IKEA and garden centres which are normally bustling were empty. Do we go downhill from here and or it just part of the uphill recovery to normality? What does it mean for hospitals in the post COVID post Brexit era?

Hospitals across the country or at least in the South all seem to be on Black Alert. Patients are queuing in A&E and there are no beds to admit. And now the cases aren’t just COVID, it’s a mixture of everything. Cancer patients presented sick, with disease progressed past the point of cure. Chronic conditions like asthma and diabetes mismanaged due to lack of regular GP reviews. Blood Bottles are running out and we are asked to acknowledge the shortage and re-think our request every time we order a blood test. There is a substantial NHS European work force, from Polish doctors to Spanish nurses and Portuguese electrophysiologists. What exactly would have to the NHS following Brexit. Another emergency visas to lorry driver situation on repeat like the petrol crisis? Who thinks of that kind of future when you are still trying to mop of the havoc the last 20 months have caused?

Regardless, my holiday gave my mind a bit o f a restart. The exhaustion is a pinch less and I can believe once again there are things to look forward to. Family and friends are re-united. The flicker of hope seems to rekindle, albeit with a low intensity at present, but it’s a start.