The long road to saying goodbye in times of Covid and Brexit
- anon
- Apr 9, 2021
- 27 min read
Updated: Jun 2, 2023
LL: UK/DE: Whenever I am in a non-European country for a few weeks or months, whether on holiday or for work, I have this impending feeling of dread that someone in my family might get sick and I wouldn't be able to get home in time. Thanks to the internet, this fear is a little less, because now you can be in touch and up to date across continents. Also, since I moved to London 25 years ago, I feel like I live more or less almost around the corner and can cross the 17-mile-wide English Channel quickly and easily if needed. Unfortunately, I was to be painfully proved wrong in the Spring of 2021. The news of my big sister’s terminal illness, the new travel conditions due to Brexit and the restrictions and regulations of the Covid 19 pandemic revived my almost-forgotten nightmare of being late. First paralysed and helpless, then desperate and finally determined, I took up the fight for the possibility of one last meeting with my sister. Saying goodbye in times of Covid and Brexit is the story I would like to tell here.
Pandemic control in the UK
When my husband and I returned to London from three months of volunteering in India in February 2020, we were still sceptical about the general Covid hysteria. In India, the pandemic had not yet become an issue, but other existential problems were occupying people’s minds. However, the explosive nature of the pandemic soon became clear to us in my adopted country, the UK, in Europe and throughout the world.
Lockdown and isolation were the order of the day to stop the spread of the Covid pandemic. In all countries, regulations were introduced, measures taken and enforced under threat of punishment. Borders were closed. Quarantine, curfew and contact restrictions meant that friends and families could not visit each other or could only do so on a strictly limited basis. Travel abroad was banned. The UK, that's where I live, had been hit particularly hard due to the government’s hesitant, delayed and inadequate action. We have the highest infection and death rates (currently close to 127,000 - April 2021) in Europe, and there are a variety of mutations that make the virus unpredictable. No wonder the whole of Europe has closed its borders to us to keep out the British virus. In vain, as we know today at the time of writing, April 2021. Travel is strictly forbidden. Covid has changed our lives to an extent we could never have imagined.
The bad news
And just at this point in time, my sister has been diagnosed with an inoperable stage 4 glioblastoma brain tumour, the most aggressive of all brain tumours. All I want to do is visit her and comfort her. What a nightmare! It tears my heart apart that I can’t go. As a public health professional, I know only too well how important all these measures are to contain the pandemic. I am always upset when people don’t wear a mask when shopping or on the bus, don’t keep their distance when jogging and, worse, continue to meet up with friends or go on holiday, regardless of the possible fatal consequences.
And now I am faced with this dilemma. I struggle with myself. I’m torn between accepting and rebelling. Finally, before I completely lose it, I start to study the Covid regulations to find a way to get from England to Germany that is within the guidelines, i.e. legal and safe for all. I had no idea at the beginning how big this task would be, how much uncertainty one would have to learn to live with and how much one would have to rely on the goodwill and support of people in authorities and of friends. Luckily, my husband David was on my side throughout this whole process and supported me. Otherwise, I might have given up.
Each country we have to enter on our journey has its own regulations. England, France, Belgium and Germany are constantly changing their rules due to the dynamics of the pandemic. Bureaucratic language is user-hostile and vague and can easily be misinterpreted. Add to this, thanks to Brexit, as of 1 January 2021 (only a few weeks ago), the UK is no longer part of the EU but has a third-country status. Whilst travel within the EU is still largely permitted, entry from third countries is very difficult.
Need for clarification, clarification and more clarification….
The first question to be answered is whether I am allowed to travel and whether my British husband, David, is allowed to accompany me. The message of every country is: travel is undesirable, not allowed, not possible. But, of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Diplomats, business people and nurses and commercial travellers are allowed to travel. I vaguely remember Prince Charles visiting Greece with his wife Camilla during this period. Well, we do not belong to this group of people, and therefore the search continues.
It is also permitted to travel for humanitarian reasons, such as for one’s own medical treatment or because of serious illness or the death of a first-degree relative. However, my initial euphoria quickly evaporates. Siblings, I soon realise, are, according to the German concept of family relationships, 2nd-degree relatives; 1st-degree relatives are parents and children. My disappointment is great, and in all the chaos of regulations, I almost overlooked the obvious. As in every country, the entry regulations of the Federal Republic of Germany stipulate that German citizens may enter Germany at any time, as may their married partners, even if they come from a third country. Bingo!
But I have been living and working in England for 25 years and have not been resident in Germany since and I am also no longer a German taxpayer. To be on the safe side, I enquire with the German Embassy and the Federal Police and ask friends who are familiar with public health regulations and the corresponding bureaucratic jargon for their interpretation of the regulations. The Federal Police immediately inform me that I am allowed to enter as a German, and so is my husband, as long as he travels with me. Okay. My friends also confirm that I am right. Good. Now I’ll have double- and triple-checked everything before I start preparing and implementing. After all, we are in the middle of a pandemic; this is all new territory as the UK is now outside the EU, and this is beyond anybody’s experience!
As always, the devil is in the detail!
How should we travel? The fastest and cheapest way would, of course, be by plane (1 ½ hrs London – Stuttgart), but direct flights are currently few and far between. From London to Frankfurt would be possible, but we’d have to change to a train and then S-Bahn to get to the town where my sister lives, and the risk of contracting Covid is far higher. The risk is lower if you can drive from door to door and only stop for petrol or a pee break. Okay, so the car it is!
However, it is February, and it’s still winter in Germany. Winter tyres or all-season tyres are required by law. Winter tyres are not known in England. It only snows once every few years here in London and then only a few centimetres which melts immediately. We order all-season tyres with the snowflake symbol, so we can travel legally. £460, a sensible investment also for future travels to the European mainland! Okay, that’s taken care of too.
Since Brexit, we need an International Driving Permit, as well as our UK driving licences to drive in most countries in the EU. I had to exchange my German driving licence for a British one 20 years ago to be able to drive legally here, in the UK. To obtain an International Driving Permit, you go to any major post office. However, this is all new territory, and nobody knows exactly how to do it yet, so it takes a while. The person dealing with us at the counter has to consult his colleagues first, and we finally leave the post office with our freshly stamped IDs. We have all learned something new about the consequences of Brexit.
More challenges come with the UK leaving the EU. Since Brexit, we also need a green insurance card for our car to be fully insured in the EU. When I request one from the insurance company, I am told it can only be done online and it would take at least two weeks. However, we plan to leave in five days, as I don’t know how long my sister will last. My nephew’s phone updates are frightening, and even when I see her via Skype, I can clearly see how the disease progresses. Finally, David finds a phone number of a very helpful insurance employee with whom we could talk and present our concerns. Of course, there isn’t a problem! She promises to issue the green insurance card immediately and send it by email. All we have to do is print it out, preferably on green paper. Really, within 5 minutes, the email arrives. I even find green paper hidden somewhere in a drawer. In a couple of days, the green card insurance certificate also arrives by post – printed on white paper.
The Brexit hurdles seem to have been overcome; now we get down to the Covid hurdles!
Both my husband and I had our first Covid injection only a week ago. However, at this early stage of vaccination, this fact did not alleviate our travel restrictions. Nobody was interested in vaccines then, in February 2021.
To get from England to Germany by car, you can either take the ferry or the Euro Tunnel. On the ferry, you have to leave the car, putting yourself at potential risk of contracting Covid from other passengers. When travelling via the tunnel, you have to stay in the car. So this question is also settled quickly. We choose the Euro Tunnel. It’s more expensive but the safest option.
The drive to Germany takes us through France and Belgium. A perusal of the extensive entry regulations reveals that France has a strict curfew after 6 pm. That could be problematic! Also, one has to fill out four affidavits stating the reason for travelling and one’s state of health, namely that one has no symptoms of Covid, that one knows the corona rules and that one must undergo quarantine immediately after entry. Again, the Brexit problem of third-country nationals not being allowed to enter comes up. But also for France applies: David is my legal husband and will be treated as an EU citizen together with me. But maybe it's better if we carry our marriage certificate with us just in case we have to prove it.
Since we only have to drive about 70 km through France from Calais to the border with Belgium, I assume that the quarantine regulations do not apply to us, but this is apparently not clear when I look through the documents. In one of the forms' I finally find a box to tick for ‘transit’. That applies to us, so the quarantine is off the table! Hopefully, we haven’t overlooked any other regulations, and I assume that the curfew does not apply to transit travellers. The Belgians are a bit laxer with their rules. At least I haven’t found any restrictions (yet), and I hope that transit is possible without any problems. Who knows! But I’m doing my best.
To keep up-to-date with each country’s Covid rules, I download the online updates onto my phone. Now I constantly receive updates, some of which contradict each other in terms of content, dependent on the source and the country. Instead of gaining more certainty, the flood of information unsettles me so much that my doubts about the feasibility of visiting my sick sister are growing.
There is also the worry about where we will get our provisions for our quarantine in Germany. Since Brexit, food of animal origins, such as meat and dairy products, are not allowed into the EU from the UK. The media are full of reports of lorry drivers complaining bitterly that their ham and cheese sandwiches have been taken away at the border. Well, this is going to be fun! Since we need provisions for our 10-day quarantine, we are thinking of practical solutions. You can’t hide that much food from border controls, nor can we go out shopping in the supermarket at the place of our quarantine. So we have to choose between legal and illegal food.
Time management – a fine art
The Covid travel ban also includes a transport ban, and transport operators, be it air, train or ship companies, must not transport anyone who does not have a permit to travel. This means we have to fill in online declarations, give our dates of travel, the reason for travel, contact address upon arrival and where we intend to spend our quarantine so that an exemption be approved. I understand that this is necessary, but I don’t get far with a trial run because a negative Covid test result must be submitted before the form can be filled out. So at this point, it is unclear to me what exactly is being asked for with this form and whether something might be hidden within that could nullify the trip.
Testing – a balancing act between requirement and reality
A negative Covid test is an essential requirement before the trip begins. The specifications for this are precise. It must be the more reliable PCR test, which does not look for antibodies but determines whether a virus is present and whose negative result must be confirmed by a fit-to-travel certificate from a recognised laboratory. From the point of testing, you have a maximum of 48 hours to enter Germany. This poses a problem because most test results are turned around within 24 to 72 hours. Besides, we must factor in a 16-hour car journey within the 48 hours time frame, including possible waiting times at borders, traffic jams or car breakdowns.
Testing seems to have become a licence to print money, and there are plenty of providers. Prices for PCR testing vary from £160 to £300 per person per test. Some labs offer rapid tests, with a result within 3 to 6 hours, but these are even more expensive. There are now also fake test certificates available for purchase. At the beginning of February, it was reported in the media that criminals are increasingly taking advantage of the stricter EU entry regulations and offering fake test certificates and documents for sale. These are priced at around £100. As tempting as this may seem as you can save yourself all the stress, but for us, this is out of the question, as we really want and need to be proven negative in order not to infect my sister, her husband and their environment, including the care home with Covid. Nor do we want to bring the English Covid mutation to Germany.
So we start to look for a feasible way to get tested. A solution is found when we talk to our pharmacist. His pharmacy conducts tests and sends them to a laboratory he frequently uses. They email the results and the issued ‘Fit for Travel’ certificates within 12 to 20 hours. He even gives us a discounted rate of £150 per person. That sounds good. It’s a deal. Now we can plan!
Our trip is planned for Thursday. We will leave home in London at 5 am. The Eurotunnel Le Shuttle from Folkestone to Calais is booked for 08.20. This should give us enough time to complete the border formalities. If we are tested at 09.30 on Wednesday morning, we can hopefully receive the results from 19.00 onwards. If the results are late, we decide to leave at 5 am anyway and wait at the Eurotunnel terminal until they come through, ready to take the next train. If the test is positive (you never know!), we would have to go back home and start all over again 5 days later.
From Wednesday evening at the latest, the doubts set in. We have been extremely cautious over the last 10 months and are both healthy. We have no pre-existing conditions but are in the vulnerable age group. Most mornings, we go for a walk in our nearby park before 7 am, early enough to avoid the crowds that flock to the park a little later who, like us, are looking for fresh air and exercise. We usually go shopping twice a week, are home by 9 or 09:30 and remain indoors for the rest of the day. We haven’t had anyone over for months and meet up with friends only outdoors, making sure we keep our distance. Therefore, we should be Covid-free, but a few days ago, a woman without a mask kept coughing behind Dave on the bus. So, you never know!
Quarantine and accommodation ban in Germany
I also need to clarify the legal situation in Germany. In many German federal states, Covid regulations stipulate not only restrictions on visiting family or friends and staying with them but also a ban on staying in hotels. For us, this means that we have nowhere to stay in Germany, neither during our quarantine nor when we visit my sister. We are a couple, and in Germany, at that time, the rule is that only one person from another household may be accommodated. But even that problem can be solved in the end, thanks to friends and a little bit of help.
In my home town in the state of Bavaria, a friend makes his flat available to us for the time of our quarantine. In the meantime, he moves into his girlfriend’s house. He also offers to fill the fridge, as we cannot bring food with us due to the Brexit restrictions, nor can we shop during our quarantine. This is a great relief to us. Another stroke of luck is that in the state of Baden-Württemberg, where my sister lives, the ban on accommodation has been partially lifted, and my nephew has found us an Airbnb close to my sister’s care home. It is available and also affordable. We book immediately and are overjoyed because we also have a kitchen there and can cater for ourselves. Restaurants, too, are closed and ordering a delivery service every day would make things even more miserable. So that is also taken care of. We won’t have to go hungry and can distract ourselves a little bit by cooking.
So we will spend our 10 days of quarantine in the Bavarian state. Here, too, the Covid rules are strict, and I have already phoned the local health authority to find out the exact procedure. Upon arrival, we have to email the health authority immediately our negative PCR tests and give them our address during quarantine. For travellers from a high-risk or virus-mutant area like England, a 10-day quarantine is mandatory despite a negative test. However, you can be released from quarantine after 5 days if you take another PCR test and it’s negative. This test can be booked online. It is a drive-in test centre, i.e. you drive to the test centre car park and are given a gargle test through the car window. You are given a plastic cup of liquid to gargle for one minute and then spit it into a little container, then hand this container over to an assistant. Within 24 hours, they will email the results, which we must immediately forward to the health authority. If the test is negative, we are released from quarantine. In case of a positive result, we would have to wait another 5 days and then test again. Okay, that’s fair.
After five days in quarantine, completely isolated from anyone, we should have a negative PCR test in our pockets. Therefore, we start to plan our visits to the nursing home.
The nursing home in question, like all others, has strict visitor regulations in order to prevent the spread of Covid infection. The number of daily visitors and the visiting hours are limited, and no visitor can enter without a daily test anyway. Visitors are also only allowed into the home wearing protective clothing and masks. To make sure we can really visit my sister, I call, introduce myself, announce my visit and find out the conditions. I book our visiting hours online for me and my husband. So that's also taken care of, and I’m already much closer to my sister, at least in terms of organisation.
Off we go!
And now everything really goes quickly: Wednesday morning at 09.30, we are tested. Then we pack. At 18.00, we get an e-mail from the lab: We are both negative!!! Now I can fill out the digital entry form with our quarantine address in Germany. Fortunately, no further questions appear on the form that could be an obstacle to our journey. We leave the next morning at 5 am, armed with a binder full of forms, tests, affidavits and evidence of our reason for travelling, marriage certificate etc. We also have all this saved on our mobile phones and laptops. You never know!
We have never seen London’s streets so empty. Even the A2 and M2 heading out towards Folkestone are empty, with no traffic jams either, despite some road works. We make good time; instead of the usual 2 ½ hours for the 72 miles, we need less than 1 ½ hours. At the Eurotunnel terminal, we are waved through, with no waiting time. We don’t even have time to hide our cheese and ham sandwiches and the rest of our travel provisions. We are already through British border control, which only wants to see our negative test results, our booking and our passports. Our car still has to go through the usual security check.
Then we are waved through to the French border control, which continues to be located on the UK side, just as it was before Brexit, to enable a quick processing and onward journey after arrival in France. So now comes the moment of truth as to how Brexit and the Covid pandemic will play out in reality. The border officials, also equipped with masks like the British ones, ask for the negative test results, our passports and our destination. Germany – all right, transit!
As we both have different names, we are asked if we belong together. We affirm that we are married, and before I can prove it by showing our marriage certificate, David’s passport is stamped to record his date of entry. Third-country nationals are now only allowed to stay in the EU for 90 days at a time. We get both passports back, and the friendly border officials wish us a safe journey. I still have my open file folder handy on my lap and ask frustratedly if they don’t want to see some of the many forms I have filled out. They just laugh, saying that’s not necessary and wish us a good time in Germany. We’re off!
That was surprisingly quick, and we are early enough to catch an earlier train. Great! That will shorten our journey time. We drive onto the train into our car compartment. Two more cars arrive after us, and that’s it. The train is almost empty. Unfortunately, the toilets are closed because of the pandemic nor are we allowed to leave the car. We can put up with that. We just have time to eat our sandwiches for breakfast before we arrive in Calais. No more controls here either. After a visit to the toilet, we go straight onto the motorway heading north towards Belgium. Here, too, there is relatively little traffic, and we make good time. No further checks at the Belgian and German borders.
Arrived – exhausted but happy
In record time, including a fuel stop and a stop to pick up the flat keys from friends, we arrive at our quarantine quarters in my hometown before the curfew kicks in, after 12 hours of door-to-door travel. There we find a well-stocked fridge full of all sorts of goodies, enough to sustain us for 30 days of quarantine. We thank our host warmly by phone because we can’t do it in person. Exhausted, we put our feet up, drink a cold beer from the fridge and settle in. If the occasion wasn’t so sad, we could almost find something to like about our adventurous trip. In any case, we are glad to have overcome the many hoops and hurdles of bureaucracy. But it’s not over yet.
The next day, I report to the local health authority and send them via email our quarantine location and our negative test results.
I call the nursing home to see how my sister is doing. My heart sinks when I hear that the home has a suspected case of Covid, and as a result, since yesterday, all visits have been cancelled until it is clear whether it’s confirmed. Oh no?! Did we undertake this trip with such effort and expense for nothing? The friendly nurse advises me to be more optimistic; in a few days, it could all look different.
We spend part of our quarantine doing gymnastics (2x 20 minutes a day) so that our old bones and muscles don’t lock up due to lack of exercise, and eating and talking on the phone with family and friends.
It feels strange not being able to visit anyone in my hometown, where I know so many people. Fortunately, WhatsApp, Skype and phone allow us to stay in touch whilst we are isolating.
On day six of our quarantine, we drive to the Covid testing station in town to test and see if we can come out of quarantine sooner. They tell us that we would receive the results by e-mail between 24 to 48 hours later. That could be tight for our first visit to my sister. The wait is nerve-wracking.
But then everything goes quickly. We get the email that our tests are negative. I immediately inform the health authority accordingly. The Covid case at the nursing home was not confirmed, and their visiting hours are reinstated. We just have time to pick up some letters for my sister at my brother’s house.
Bureaucracy flourishes even in these times!
The next day we leave early. It is a 3 ½ hours drive to the town where my sister lives. On the way, it snows, and we are glad to have bought our new all-season tyres. But then I get an e-mail from the health authority in my home town. In addition to the negative test confirmation, they also need the lab report. I kindly write back that we have not received a lab report, and besides, I am already on the road and in another federal state, Baden-Württemberg. In another friendly e-mail, I am informed how and where I can ask for the lab report. German bureaucracy pure! The two authorities reside in the same building and could actually apply the principle of speaking to each other.
Annoyed, I am just about to consider ignoring this e-mail when I receive a text message on my English mobile phone from the German government informing me of the underlying criteria for the regulations and measures against Covid with references to the quarantine requirement when entering from a virus mutant area. Panic! Have I perhaps missed an update? I am just about to download the latest guidelines to my mobile phone and study them when another text message from the federal government arrives. At first glance, it seems the same.
Now I’m overcome with paranoia. Why did the federal government take notice of me? Why at this particular time? Have I now been put on the wanted list because I released myself from quarantine (following the guidelines – or at least as I understood them) with a negative test? Yet I wanted to do everything right. I force myself to remain calm. When we arrive at our Airbnb, I instantly contact the PCR testing centre, who immediately email me the lab report, which I send straight away to the health authority. Phew! Finally, that’s done, too, and the horror scenarios in my head can dissolve. We are legal once again, and we can enter the nursing home with peace of mind.
Finally, finally at my sister’s bedside!
There I learn about the procedure that is necessary to be allowed to enter the home. First, an antibody test has to be made. To do this, a thin long stick is pushed up the nose by a nurse almost to the brain, which brings tears to the eyes. (This way, we know that it has been done properly, says the friendly nurse). During the 10-minute wait for the results, forms must be filled in. Then I have to wear a mask and protective clothing, and finally, I am allowed to go to the ward where my sister is. There I am met by a friendly nurse who tells me about the Covid rules (1-hour visiting time for only one person or household at a time) and explains my sister’s medical condition.
Finally, I almost didn't believe it anymore; I can go and see her. We are both very moved. I am at a loss for words when I see my big and strong sister lying in bed so seriously ill. But there is no need to speak. I am happy just to hold her hand. And she holds mine very tightly and doesn't want to let go.
Just to get to this moment, this colossal effort was worth it. The day before, my sister had suffered severe epileptic seizures and, as a result, is tired. She can no longer speak, but again and again, she reads through my brothers' letters and runs her finger along the handwritten lines as if she wants to feel the words. The hour of visiting time is over far too quickly, and I say goodbye until the next day.
Over the next few days, she sleeps a lot, and I spend my visiting time watching her sleep. The doctor had said it was best if she could sleep so that her body could recover. So, on the one hand, I am happy when she sleeps, but on the other hand, I feel like I am running out of time. I wanted to be active and help in some way. Not sit around helplessly.
Initially, we had planned a week at my sister's bedside. But I soon realise that one week is too short, with only one hour of visiting time per day, during which my sister is mostly asleep. It's depressing, and I can't judge whether I might leave her too soon when I'm probably saying my last goodbye after a week. So we decide to extend our stay by 8 days. I talk to the oncologist and palliative care doctor who is treating my sister to get his opinion on her illness. Although he is at present on holiday, he agrees to talk to me. What a commitment! I am impressed.
Fear of “What if…?”
We spend the next few days going between the nursing home, our rented flat and my brother-in-law's flat. In between, we also go for walks into town and for shopping. We are in constant fear of catching Covid, shying away from any person who comes too close in the supermarket, especially those without a mask. Not only would this mean that we would no longer be able to visit my sister and perhaps bring Covid into the care home, but it would also prevent our return journey back to England, for which we need a negative PCR test. If we were positive, we would have to stay in a hotel in Germany until we were proven negative. And where would we stay if we got Covid? In times of Covid, visits to private homes are not allowed, and no one would want to put us up anyway if we were positive. I have never felt so insecure in my home country.
On top of that, people in Germany are panicking about the British virus mutation at this time. We feel like outcasts, an imposition on the population and not welcome, even though we are negative and have undergone more tests than most people. Nevertheless, we avoid speaking English with each other in public so as not to be recognised as foreigners, and we also hope that our car with its British registration plate will not provoke anyone to take out their frustration and fear on our vehicle. But our neighbours know and ask about my sister's condition, then leave us alone.
The full frightening extent
The days fly by. I regularly report back to my brothers about my sister and look after my brother-in-law as far as possible. I also phone my sister's friends, who are also worried about her. It is often a big problem in times of Covid for family members and friends to assist the ill. Those who work and perhaps even come into contact with many people at work see the risk of infection and refrain from visiting the ill with a heavy heart. Others have pre-existing conditions that require them to be extremely careful not to become infected. They do well to avoid travelling, crowds and hospitals. However, for whatever reason, the people who are ill are hit hardest by isolation and loneliness during the pandemic.
I still manage to have a few golden hours with my sister. Some days she is lucid and alert; other days, the opposite and I fear that her end is near. But every now and then, she manages to overcome a bad phase and is more stabilised. During her more lucid moments, I phone my brothers or nephews on Whatsapp so they can see her and speak to her. My sister has always been a strong personality and a fighter. This is also evident in her illness. However, to make matters worse, my brother-in-law, her husband of 50 years, has been suffering from word-finding difficulties and dementia, and for the last few years, she has looked after him. I suspect it is the concern for her husband that is keeping my sister alive despite her serious illness.
A hard goodbye, perhaps forever
I am frightened to say goodbye to my sister. I feel guilty leaving her behind and returning to the UK to continue my life. Doctors say it could be days, weeks or even months before she dies. Theoretically, I know that I can't sit by my sister's bedside for weeks and hold her hand until she dies. We couldn't afford that financially either, though I wince at the thought of cost being a factor. And yet, it is. If it were easier to come back, I would feel better. But that's not the case in these Covid times and the problems caused by Brexit.
Besides, I have a life with numerous commitments in London, even though I am a pensioner. These are all reasonable arguments, but they don't really take away my feelings of guilt.
Then the dreaded moment comes, and I have to say goodbye to my sister as we leave early the next morning. On this day it's one of her bad days, and she doesn't recognise David, me or even her husband. Maybe it's just as well because it would be very painful for both of us to say goodbye to each other, perhaps forever. I can't help thinking that she has instinctively disengaged to avoid the pain of parting. The next day, when her son arrives for his weekly weekend visit, she feels better. She recognises him and smiles as he tells her some funny stories from his working world. Things will probably go up and down for quite a while yet.
Conditions for the return
The return journey, like the arrival, is nerve-wracking. Two days before our return journey, we have another PCR test to go through, which we take at a drive-in test centre 25 km away. And the waiting and worrying start all over again. This time we have 72 hours from the actual time of the test until we enter England. The e-mail arrives on the evening before departure at around 9 pm.
Then we have to fill in the online entry form for Great Britain and provide proof that we are legally allowed to enter England. (Since Brexit, I have been given an unlimited right to stay in Britain, a document which I had not needed before). We also have to give precise details of where we intend to spend our 10-day quarantine and proof that we have ordered online (and paid for) the obligatory test package for all travellers into the UK. Part of the package means that we have to test ourselves on the 2nd and 8th day of our quarantine. The price for the self-tests is expensive and costs £205 per person.
This compulsory extra test seems a bit excessive even to me, considering that we have been tested at least 14 times during our time in Germany. We will be travelling from door to door from Germany to England with our negative test result and will not come into contact with anyone during our journey except when refuelling or going to the toilet.
But we have to be glad that Germany, although Covid infections are increasing enormously, is not yet in the category of countries on the red list. Travellers from these countries are forced to spend their 10-day quarantine in a hotel at the outrageous price of £ 1,750 per person, including food and security. It has only recently come to light that the hotels only receive £750 for accommodation and food. The rest is apparently for security services.
Anyway, many people or organisations in the UK seem to be profiting from the Covid pandemic. The cost of testing is much lower in Germany. The daily tests we had to do in the care home were free. The PCR test in Bavaria for release testing from quarantine was also free of charge. The PCR test in Baden-Württemberg to return to England cost about £64. By comparison, PCR tests in the UK cost between £160 and £300, and the compulsory Travel Test Package of 2 tests during the 10-day quarantine costs £205 per person. I wonder who is making money from this?
The return
The return journey to England goes smoothly. Only after the border of Belgium with France is the motorway temporarily closed, and we have to show our negative Covid PCR test before we are allowed to continue. There are hardly any problems at the Eurotunnel. The French are relaxed. They are only interested in our negative Covid tests, and again they're not interested in the many forms I have ready in my big folder. They stamp David's passport because he is now a so-called third-country national. We apologize jokingly for the extra work and affirm that we did not vote for Brexit. They laugh and wave us through.
There is a slightly longer wait on the British side, as checking all the entry forms, the negative test results, confirming our quarantine location and the ID of our travel test package etc., takes time. We had no access to a printer, so we had to show everything on our mobile phones. This may take longer if the confirmations have to be searched on the mobile phone. There are four passengers in the car in front of us. Our hopes of getting an earlier train fade as we grudgingly have to wait for the last document to be found and checked for each person on the mobile phone. With us, on the other hand, everything goes quickly. We are even praised by the inspector for being so well prepared! Well, that comes with the experience we had to learn on our trip to make a visit to my ill sister during these taxing times of Brexit and Covid.
Back home, quarantine and Day 2 and Day 8 Covid tests
The 10-day quarantine at home goes without any major problems. We had stocked up on food at the supermarket before we left my sister's town and both neighbours and friends in London provided us with essential food such as milk, which does not stay fresh for as long, and they also put homemade cakes and flowers outside our flat door to welcome us home. The Day 2 test arrives via couriers on the evening of the 3rd day. We learn to test ourselves and hope that we are not too squeamish but have literally scraped together enough specimens in our throat and nose to send off to be tested. We take our precious tests to the mailbox the day after. The purpose of going into quarantine is to isolate ourselves at home, but we still have to leave the house to post our samples. Well, one logistical gap of many. Day 8's test arrives on time, and we can get it to the mailbox the same day.
The wait is no longer so nerve-wracking, as we are relatively sure that we have not picked up a virus anywhere in our home over the last few days. Still, we want to get out of quarantine and resume our lives after five weeks away. Unfortunately, we don't receive our negative test result until the 13th day of our quarantine, as it took the Royal Mail a whopping 3 days to transport our test specimens marked as priority mail to the lab!!! At this price, I would have expected better service; since the courier delivered the test kits, you would think they could also pick them up.
It wasn’t easy, but it was the right decision!
Was all the effort worth it? It certainly was! I would have gone crazy not to be able to see my sister under such circumstances. Being there and holding her hand was the most important thing for me. I will never forget that, as it gave me a certain peace of mind. But watching this terrible disease slowly take over and not being able to help to alleviate my sister's suffering was difficult and will remain in my memory, as will her struggle for every precious minute left with her loved ones.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank all the helpful people, known and unknown, who helped us during the preparation and on the journey under the Covid rules and thus made it possible for us to visit my sister. Without their strong support and encouragement, I might not have had the strength to continue and might have given up prematurely. I have experienced deep humanity in this process from both friends and complete strangers that I thought no longer existed. I was wrong. Let that be a lesson to me and to all of us.
Looking back, I also realise how privileged my husband and I are because, as pensioners, we can be flexible with our time. How might it be for the many people who are in a similar situation but are tied up in the work process and therefore have very limited time? The time for quarantine alone may take up one's annual holiday allowance! And what employer will or can be so generous or flexible as to agree to a leave request that depends on test results and cannot be planned precisely? Not to mention the cost.
Life before Brexit, but especially before the pandemic, seems so uncomplicated in light of my recent travel experiences. Hopefully, I'll remember that when at least the Corona crisis is a thing of the past.
Four weeks after our visit, my sister passed away.
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