“I LOST MY GRANDFATHER TO COVID AND HAD TO FIGHT TO GET TO HIS FUNERAL. MY WHOLE FAMILY CAUGHT THE VIRUS. NOW MORE MUST BE DONE TO UNDERSTAND THE DEVASTATING EFFECTS IT HAS HAD ON BLACK, ASIAN AND ETHNIC MINORITY COMMUNITIES.”
I will never forget the last time that I saw my Grandfather before the ambulance arrived. He was sat in his chair forcing himself to finish off his lunch whilst navigating video calls from his daughter. He told me not to cry and that he would be returning home in a few days. He didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He had every desire to make a full recovery.
After two courses on antibiotics his chest infection and terrible cough wasn’t improving. He gradually grew weaker till he struggled to finish a full meal. My father and Uncles agonised over the decision of whether to send him to hospital for treatment. Seeing his deteriorated state, they were left with no other choice but to send him. They knew he may never come back.
I kept begging my uncles not to let him go. Despite my protests the ambulance was called. I was afraid he would only get worse in hospital all on his own.
I had always remembered my Grandfather as a fighter. At 94 years old he had witnessed WWII, the Partition of India and a triple heart bypass. He would always tell me stories of his career in the Navy and his journey to the UK. I thought that he would also survive this illness like he survived everything else in his life. If there was anyone I knew who had strength, will and determination to survive it was my grandfather.
Scarred by the aftereffects of stroke 8 years previously he was living on his own. He had become completely bed bound and relied on the help of carers daily. Despite that he never once complained about his state. He had full hope that God would one day heal him and he would walk again. When reaching his two week stay in hospital we were informed that he was in a stable condition. There were even signs that he may be recovering from his ordeal. I was waiting for the days when he would soon return.
Early in the morning a phone call came from the hospital telling my father to come and quickly see him. Unaware of the call I woke to the cry of my little sister.
“He has gone!” she shrieked
“Dajee (grandpa) is not coming back !”
A wave of anger washed over me. I couldn’t help but feel furious at the NHS. I needed someone to blame for his death. Someone who didn’t do their job properly which led to him passing away.
Family members consoled me by saying that it was his time to go. He was suffering from many underlying health conditions and he couldn’t continue fighting any longer. There was no point in me blaming anyone over it.
My grandfather didn’t leave us without giving us a small gift. He’d managed to pass that Covid gift to my dad and Uncles. This reached everyone in my house severely affecting my dad and brother.
Seeing my entire family so sick, us all stuck in quarantine and losing my grandfather took its toll on me. My anxiety flared up as I also began to get symptoms of the virus.
When all of this was going on my family had to arrange my grandfather’s funeral. His body was prepared the next day at Grangetown Mosque in a closed coffin. I couldn’t think of a worse time in the world for a person to pass away.
Me and my sister fought our way out of quarantine so we could see his face for the last time. I can still see his serene expression as he lay there as if he was sleeping. I wanted to stay longer with him but was eventually dragged away crying by my mum. There wasn’t any space or time for us to grieve and share the emotions of suddenly losing him.
Passing by masked members of my family was the hardest. Not being able to have that comforting touch when I needed it most was unbearable. Unable to see the faces of those around me made the whole funeral seem so unrealistic. There were no tears, only hidden faces and buried grief. A part of me still wonders if he had really passed away. I still try to imagine him back in his house, sitting on his chair waiting for someone to visit him.
A week later everyone’s health began improving. We started to slowly recover from the symptoms and were soon out of isolation. Even after we all recovered, we won’t ever forget the mark Covid has left in our lives.
Statistics of Covid mortality rates from ethnic minorities has been revealed to be worse compared to the majority White, British population. According to the ONS, figures show that there have been 255.7 deaths per 100,000 population of males from Black and ethnic minority backgrounds compared to the lower 87.0 deaths per 100,000.
For females the pattern is also similar with 118.7 deaths per 100,000 from Black, Asian and Ethnic minority backgrounds compared to 52.0 deaths per 100,000.
These alarming statistics have left doctors and scientists puzzled as to why so many people from Black, Asian and Ethnic minority communities are more likely to die from Covid. Factors such as BME communities living in multi-generational households and links to Poverty have been mentioned.
However, there is another link that hasn’t been properly explored. The factor of type 2 Diabetes which is shown to be more prevalent in BME communities as a major factor linked to Covid deaths.
Type 2 diabetes is up to six times more likely in people of South Asian descent compared to the White British population. Type 2 is three times more likely in African and Afro-Caribbean people.
Such underlying health conditions such as Diabetes alongside Cholesterol and High blood pressure makes a person who had Covid much more susceptible to being severely affected and in many cases dying from the virus.
Although there has not been a lot of research in this area, there is at present a correlation which needs a detailed investigation. In fact we have a duty to those more likely to suffer from Diabetes to look into the risk they face from Covid.
I personally believe there is a link between Type 2 Diabetes and Covid. My grandfather had type 2 Diabetes, Cholesterol, high blood pressure and suffered a severe stroke which made it difficult for him to survive the virus.
The story surrounding my grandfather is not only my own story but is part of the stories of countless others who are also suffering now. If you are in isolation right now, please know that you are not alone. There are many like myself who were in your shoes who have come out the other side.
I anticipate the arrival of spring in which we can all leave this dark winter of sorrow and disease behind and move towards a future with brighter days full of hope, health and happiness.
The writer is a freelance journalist based in Cardiff
