It won't be easy
“It’s not going to be easy,” Isla Walsh began. Isla, my senior care assistant. Isla, the ex-Macmillan nurse. “I discussed it last night with my family. Leaving them alone to face Covid is going to be a nightmare. My husband is diabetic, and one of my daughters is asthmatic. But they understand. They told me that if anyone could do this, it would be us.”
As she spoke, a profound wave of emotion washed over me. To implement the highest standards of care since Meirion Court opened, I had nagged almost all of the staff at one time or another. They were not doing this for me. What selfless souls they had turned out to be, each prepared to sacrifice their families’ well-being for those who depended on us. “I would never be able to live with myself if I thought I’d brought the virus into Meirion Court,” Isla concluded, her voice unwavering.
I searched their faces, reflecting a mix of grim determination and quiet resolve. Each of them had their own motives, their own fears, no doubt, and yet here they stood, united by a common purpose. I struggled to find my voice. “My God… All nine of you… this is… I don’t know what to say. You’re willing to sacrifice so much … for the residents. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
The enormity of their commitment was daunting. We were more than colleagues. Our bond was that of a pioneer group, heading out over a plague ridden wasteland, caught up in the cause of courage and compassion. The crux of our mission was clear: we were more than bestowers of care. We would stand united with the residents, ready to face the challenges ahead, fortified by the knowledge that our actions could create something new, something almost unique in the field.
This was more than a job; we were committed to protecting those who could not protect themselves. At that moment, we were ready to face the unknown, united in our resolution, in profound harmony with one another, undergoing a shared emotional experience, our hearts attuned not only to the needs of our own families but also to our residents, who were to become our second family. It fell to Alba to spell this out. “Someone has to, boss. It might as well be us. We’re not just an institution – we’re family here too, aren’t we?”
Not normally one for public displays of emotion, I had to brush away the tear that was trickling down my cheek. "Yes," I said, tenacity hardening my own voice. "Yes, we are. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Looking at the nine determined faces, a wave of profound gratitude washed over me. "Give me time to think through the financial implications and talk to my own family,” I replied. “Before I give my consent, I’ll need to carry out due diligence. Compared to our normal regime, we’d be operating a skeleton staff. The logistics are daunting and the risks enormous, but you’ve all heard what Molly had to say!”
My father immediately saw the logic of a lock-in. The call that I had with him was pleasantly concise. “You will all need to keep your wits about you, but yes, I am 100% behind you, so.”