We will get through: 5 elderly Londoners on what coronavirus means to them

For older people — and indeed all of us, their children, relatives and friends — this is a truly gut-wrenching time. My local pharmacist Vinay Mehta, 58, told Evening Standard: “It’s getting desperate now. Some older people are panicking. They want supplies of medication because they will be housebound. In 30 years of running my shop, I have never known anything like it.”

At Coolhurst Tennis and Squash Club in Crouch End, the courts were preternaturally quiet as the usual school of midweek veterans heeded the Government’s call for over-Seventies to begin to self-isolate for up to four months. Everywhere, families, churches, mosques, synagogues and fast-forming street neighbourhood groups were making arrangements to help the elderly and most vulnerable — shop for them, call them.

Yesterday, as deaths worldwide spiralled towards the 10,000 mark, the vast majority of victims over 70 years old, I did what children around the world were doing: I called my 84-year-old father Maurice who lives alone in another city and discussed his detailed plans for self-isolation. I felt desolate as to how he will cope but found myself unexpectedly buoyed by his resolve. “We’re all worried for each other but don’t worry too much about me because I am capable of looking after myself and we will get through this,” he said.

In London I spoke to five elderly people and one carer who have already begun to self-isolate, including a 97-year-old Holocaust survivor and an 81-year-old doing shadow boxing to keep fit. How were they coping? This is what they had to say.

“We have to prepare for a lot of endings”

Isca Wittenberg, 97. Widow, psychotherapist, author and Holocaust survivor, lives on her own

“I have a carer who comes twice a day — in the morning to help me shower, make my breakfast and go shopping and in the evening to give me supper and heave me into bed. I can’t do without her, but during the day I manage alone. I am well, although my lungs are not good and I’m on a breathing machine at night, so if the virus gets me I’ll be finished very quickly. It’s a tremendous crisis for the world but I don’t feel too worried about me because what will happen will happen. I think my calmness has something to do with having been through a crisis during Hitler’s time when we did not know whether we would be alive the next day. I am spending my time reading and writing. My last book was about endings and beginnings and my publisher asked if I want to add anything for the new edition, so I said yes, I want to write about people in their nineties. We face a lot of endings, but there can also be inner growth. I feel strongly that nature can be our inspiration and that it’s the next generation we must think of. That’s why I am changing my will to include money for trees to be planted in Africa and here in London.”

“Humour is our biggest weapon”

Solomon, 81. Retired architect, lives on his own

“I have been self-isolating in my small flat for one week now and I feel like I’m in prison. I have not seen a single person,not even my sister. She does my grocery shopping for me, rings the bell, drops the bag and runs away before she can contaminate me. I never imagined this could happen. It’s a war. I feel well and want to remain that way, so I walk from room to room, do stretches and even the odd bit of shadow boxing. I have been going over my old diaries. I see I had a problem with my knee 12 years ago, that I broke my arm 10 years ago — and I feel reassured to think that I got over all that. The biggest worry is how long this will last. They’re saying three months. But to not go out or socialise for that long will make me really depressed. At least this virus is considerate in that it doesn’t distinguish between kings and paupers and the Queen has to self-isolate as much as I do. Perhaps humour is our biggest weapon. If something positive can come out of this, it’s the realisation that we are all in the same boat and maybe it can bring us closer together.”

“We haven’t started swearing at each other yet.”

Medg Sullivan, 60. Founder of Brixton Wings charity for disadvantaged children, carer, lives with her elderly husband

“I have been self-isolating since Saturday to protect my 75-year-old husband, Paul, who had a minor stroke and has high blood pressure and would not survive catching the coronavirus. It means he keeps to his part of the house and I keep to mine, coming together only for meals where we sit on opposite sides of the table and make sure not to have any physical contact. It’s stressful and my head is going mad because I am not a good indoors person, but we haven’t started swearing at each other yet, which is pretty good if you know us. When I think of what could happen to Paul, I panic but Paul is Nigerian and he lived through the Biafran War so he’s a tough cookie. We’re news junkies but he feels we should not watch the news so obsessively to protect our mental health. He wants to plant blackberries in our small garden this weekend and if the weather’s nice, sit out and read.”

“My Pilates classes are now on FaceTime”

Jos Kuper, 75. Widow, semi-retired media researcher, lives on her own

“My natural tendency is to be optimistic but I feel real fear when they quote numbers like 20,000 and say that will be a “good” number of deaths. I have two good friends, one with a heart condition, the other with compromised lungs, and I worry for them. I have already been self-isolating for 11 days. My twice-weekly Pilates lessons are now on FaceTime. I only leave the house for walks, but keep my distance from others. I walked past my grandson’s house yesterday and he leaned out his bedroom window and we did a Romeo and Juliet. Online food ordering is impossible right now so I will have to rely on my daughter or neighbours to shop for me. People are being very kind. I am coping okay but it’s only 11 days. What about after two months? It brings your life into focus. When my son came to visit before he flew home to Australia, he was not sure whether to hug me. I said, ‘Yes, hug me, I’ve had a good life until now’.”

“I will miss seeing my friends”

Sydney, 97. Widower, QC and retired judge, lives on his own

“I am a long-retired lawyer who loves going out with friends to opera, theatre and restaurants, but now with coronavirus there is nothing one can do except obey instructions and stay home. I am lucky to have family nearby although, so far, I have avoided seeing my younger grandchildren because I’m in the vulnerable group. I would feel terrible if I got it and they caught it from me and something bad happened to them. I am 97 so I don’t really matter but I am worried about how this could affect young people. There is a park backing onto my house and I can walk there, and I also have a highly competent housekeeper who looks after me. I plan to get through this by reading, listening to audio books and watching TV, but I will miss seeing my

friends.”

“Isolation for four months will be impossible for me”

June, 88. Widow, housewife, lives alone

“I feel like I’m living in a terrifying, dystopian, science-fiction movie. I have stopped going out, I don’t see my young grandchildren or friends, I no longer go to synagogue, but I am continuing to play bridge because otherwise I will go stark raving mad. Four of us, all over 70, have agreed to play in each other’s homes but with strict rules: we wash our hands when we arrive, try not to touch our faces and use a new pack of cards. I am only thinking ahead two weeks because isolating for four months will be impossible for someone like me. We elderly will have to strike a balance between trying to stay physically well and mentally sane.”