Rachel Clarke’s article (10 May) resonated with me as it captured completely the effect of the pandemic on the dying. My late husband was diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer earlier this year and spent his final two weeks in hospital.
I was “allowed” to visit if the permission of a doctor was given, and then had to give a code to enter the hospital. Our time together was increased towards the end, but by then he was often not lucid and did not recognise me.
I felt that we were deprived of quality time together, which, after 50 years of marriage, I felt was the least that we could expect. It has made his loss so much harder to bear. During both stays in the hospital he contracted Covid in spite of having received his first jab.
The DVLA, my utility company and my bank, to name just a few, have made the task of dealing with his death so much more difficult, especially as, due to restrictions, my family are also prevented from coming to help me.
The pandemic has meant no human beings at the end of the telephone. I have spent hours on the phone or trying to get answers from robots on chatlines. This pandemic will be felt for many years to come.