The Locked Door

The Locked Door

The day had started out as any ordinary day; they had their breakfast and set off for the local Meals on Wheels kitchens, where they would meet the other volunteers ready and willing to deliver the hot meals to the people who are unable to cook for themselves. The only change they will encounter today, courtesy of the current virus stipulations, is getting through the locked doors!!

They meet the other volunteers for a cuppa and chat before they take off on their journey. The conversation always seems to end with who will be delivering the meal to dear old Lizzie. Lizzie has severe dementia, it is always a struggle to get the meal delivered to her through her locked doors, as she has several deadlocks on the both doors, and is often unsure of as to where her keys are or even why she is receiving a meal.

And yes, today is their day to deliver to Lizzie. She sighs, and guesses everyone has to have a turn to deliver to Lizzie.

They also have five others to deliver to, and in this virus ravaged time, it is a struggle to even get the able bodies people to open the doors, let alone this dear old lady.

It is not an easy task these days, the elderly people keep their doors locked, fearful that if they open them, the dreaded virus will creep in and destroy their world. Once not that long ago, the doors would be unlocked and open, the people keen to chat for a few minutes, now she must knock harshly on the doors, and wait patiently for the deadlocks to be released, and slowly the door opens, with some just opening it wide enough for the meal to be passed through the gap.

She had recently been sent some photos of her relatives in Ireland, taken in the mid eighteen eighties. They were in the midst of the Great Famine at that time, what would they make of this frightening time where a single puff of air can make you so sick, you may die; where you had to lock you doors to keep out a virus you could not even see.   As she stared into the photo, she tried to imagine what their life would have been like, so many dying not from some virus, but starving from lack of food.

She looked to see if there was any resemblance to her, the faces stared blankly back at her, there seemed no resemblance there. They were as unaware of her as she was of them, never thinking they may have future relatives in a far off land. She has been told the photo is of her great grandfather, a coachman trying to feed his family on meagre wages. The children looked forlorn and sad, she wondered why they never smiled for the camera, maybe they had little to smile about in those famine ridden days. 

They lived in a small cottage with only two rooms, although it was small, the warmth of the fire allowed heat to permeate their little cottage, keeping it warm enough to protect them from the cold harsh frosts cloaking the fields of this Irish county.

The family slept on small rough makeshift beds, their food cooked on the old stove blackened by years of use, a family trying to survive the cold Irish winters. She had heard they had lost their youngest child after she was badly burnt whilst trying to keep warm in front of the open fire.   These were “day to day” challenges they had to deal with, but maybe their life was better then, no pandemics filtering through their air, to invade their homes and attack their family. There was no need for locked doors in those days, starvation was their only enemy.

She wonders why this has happened to her world. Looking out at the sky, she sees the birds flying overhead, the gentle breeze lightly moving the branches of the trees. Where is the virus, why can’t she see it? If it is that bad, surely the birds would be afraid and stop flying, or the trees dying where they stand.

No, it all looks so normal, but life is far from normal these days. A simple breath or cough from a bystander could infect her, bringing her world tumbling down. Her husband is nearly blind, has Parkinson Disease and suffers from bronchiectasis (a deadly disease in the safest of conditions); she has been told one simple breath of diseased air could be fatal for him, it is like she is living with a man with a death sentence hanging over his head, and through no fault of his own, he could be just another statistic added to the daily list of the deaths attributed to the virus.

Fifteen years ago, the world was their oyster; they were fit and healthy, ready to start living the high life of retirement. Ill health came on suddenly to her husband of fifty years, and fast forward ten years, here they were, certainly not living the high life, but surviving as best they could. And then, the virus hit, and their world came plummeting down!!!!   

She is bought back to the present by the sounds of the trolleys being wheeled out to the waiting volunteers, with big eskies full of hot meals, cold salads, soups, sandwiches, cheese and biscuits, fruit and deserts to be delivered. They trundle to their cars, wishing the other volunteers a cheery “good-bye” and safe trip around the town with their precious commodities.

As she stops their car at the first of their deliveries, her husband gets slowly out of the car, gingerly making his way around to the back of the car, to begin the task of gathering the food from the eskies, and checking it off carefully as he goes. This is his job; her job is to deliver the food to the people. She takes the basket of food and is on her way. 

Irene greets her with a cheery “hello” and receives one back. Irene is on her walker today, so maybe she is not feeling that well. As she lives on her own, she is always ready for a chat, just to have that human contact is for the home bound more rewarding that a day out shopping or lunching with friends. Irene tells her she is an artist, and of course, they chat about art, and she admits she wishes she too could paint. Irene gives her the phone number of the art class teacher, telling her to give her a ring, and organise to come along to their group if she would like to. She knows she cannot do it; it is too dangerous to be out too long in case they too would be infected with the virus, and besides, she is a full time carer for her husband.

Today, the food is placed on the tray outside the door. Irene is safety behind the screen, not venturing out until she has left, and mentions her scarf, saying how lovely it is. She tells her she does not remember where she picked it up from, but it is so warm, and keeps the cold from creeping down her back. Irene laughs, wishes her a cheery “good-bye”, and as she leaves, she sees her creep out to retrieve the food, and closes her door, locking it securing as if that is the only way she can keep the virus from attacking her. 

Their second stop is Jean, who usually has a salad for her lunch, even in the coldest day; she says she loves the crispness of the lettuce and crunch of the tomato. She knocks loudly, and knows it will take quite a while for Jean to come to unlock the door. She places the food on the tray provided outside the door, waits patiently for her. Eventually the door is opened, and she is able to have a chat with her, noting the beautiful photos of her grandchildren proudly hung on the wall. 

For Jean it is well worth the pain of walking to the door to greet her. This little charade of dropping the meal off and having a chat with Jean, and of someone admiring photos of her grandchildren may not be part of the volunteers job description, but she knows these little things add up to a very big thing in Jean’s life, having someone share part of her day.   Again, the food is there for her to eat, Jean will open the door once she is gone, retrieve her food, and the deadlocks on the door will keep her safe from the outside diseased world.

Not far from there is their third stop, Joe, who is disabled.  He does not say much, but always glad to see her, he is grateful that he has someone who cares enough to bring him food. He is concerned as to when the lockdown will be over, will he be able to get to the shops soon, she tells him she is unsure, and wishes him a “good day”. He closes the door behind her, and she hears the deadlocks fall into place. 

Just down the road they deliver their food to Jack and Elsie. They have a beautiful black ragdoll cat, Billy, which sits on the stairs, as if waiting for her to arrive. Elsie told her once that Billie is seventeen years old.  He knows when the door is opened, he can slink inside.  She delivers hot food and sandwiches, and they are grateful they have someone who cares enough about their welfare. They always have a smile on their faces, and are always dressed in their pyjamas and dressing gowns. She guesses they do not have any reason to change their clothes, they do not intend to leave their house in these trying times. They take the food and close the door on the outside world, scared if it is open for too long, the tentacles of virus may creep into their home leaving sickness in its wake.  

Back to the car she goes, for the hand sanitizing ritual again, which is starting to get a little annoying by this stage.

Their run is nearly over, only two more deliveries to go. Des and Gwen live in a highset house, so it is a bit of a struggle for her to get to the top. Gwen is severely disabled from a stroke which immobilized her about ten years ago, and Jim struggles with diabetes, with numerous ulcers on his legs. However, they seem to survive with help from people like her and others who come and clean their house and assist them in other ways.  She gives them their food, and slowly makes her way back to the car, the deliveries are nearly completed.

Her husband is patiently waiting at the car for her; he knows they both must be careful.   Hands are sanitised, and off they go again. They stop at Lizzie’s home, and as she takes the basket, they look at each other questioningly. Will Lizzie open the door for them today, and take the food, or declare she is not hungry; or she has no money to pay for it, and seem disoriented as she tries to explain to Lizzie that she is from Meals on Wheels, with some lunch for her. 

She carries the basket down to the door, and knocks loudly.  This day, however, however, Lizzie is not well and severely disorientated. She explains she is from Meals on Wheels, with some food for her, would she be able to open the door.  She hears footsteps, and is hopeful this will be a good day, where she will have her keys with her, and be able to unlock the deadlocks that keep her safe inside the house.

Lizzie eventually makes her way to the door and she is now talking to Lizzie with the door which is securely locked between them. She urges her to take the keys she has on a cord around her neck, and unlock the door, so she can give her the food. Lizzie is undecided, which key would be the one she should use. Eventually, the door edges open. Lizzie is tottering a little, as if she could fall at any moment. Now the screen is the only barrier between them. She has to unlock this door so she can take the food. 

Lizzie again asks where she is from, who pays for the food, why is she here. She is used to this ritual, and again tells her she is from Meals on Wheels with food for her lunch. Lizzie again looks for the key to open the screen door, and starts trying them all, one by one. It is a slow process but eventually, she hears the deadlocks come free and she opens the door.   She hands Lizzie the food, and again Lizzie asks where she is from, who pays for the food. This is a trying ritual that the volunteers go through every day. But at least this day, she managed to open the doors and take the food.

She can see she is limping, and asks what is wrong with her foot; Lizzie takes her slipper off and shows her the sores on her foot. She commiserates with Lizzie, and suggests that perhaps the food will help, encouraging her to eat the food while it is hot. Lizzie smiles, thanks her again, and closes the door to the world. She hears the deadlocks fall into place, and only then can she make her way up to the car, happy in the knowledge Lizzie has locked the door against others who may wish to take advantage of an old lady who does not really know what is happening in her little world.

She makes her way back to the car, smiling and nodding to her husband that “yes” she took the food. They are both relieved the day has ended so well, and they have delivered all their meals.

They normally go for lunch somewhere after their volunteering excursion, but this day, because of the lockdown, it is take-away from the local fish and chip shop. Once home, they relax, and feel grateful they are the people who deliver the food, still able to look after themselves and give something back to the community. 

They both agree that one day they may need help in this way, and once that day comes, they too will be the couple behind the locked door, terrified to open it for fear the silent unseeable virus known as COVID will infiltrate their home and they become just another statistic in the deaths of the COVID virus.