When I am out, I sometimes vomit. I have thrown up in John Lewis on Oxford Street, the Central Court in the British Museum and a few times on Crouch End high street. Today I was in John Lewis food hall on Oxford Street, and experienced waves of nausea and had to stand leaning against a pillar to quieten down the feeling. Fortunately a staff member noticed me and my distress, offered me a chair and, seated, I managed to avoid throwing up.
People are kind. Often strangers stop to ask if I’m OK, when I am throwing up, ready to volunteer themselves to help. Sometimes, I want to ask them to hold my hand. Being sick is not painful, but I always cry afterwards and I would like some help to get over my distress. My family have become adept at holding my hand when I am sick and waiting for me to get over it. This is such a comfort.
But this kind of help involving touch is difficult to ask for in Covid times and I feel I have to reassure people that I am not contagious.
I have taken to carrying a plastic bag to throw up into and then discard – this usually works in preventing my vomit from polluting the pavement and public spaces – if I can get to the bag in time. Once the bag had a hole in it and the sick dribbled out of it over my trousers. This happened whilst I was riding a bus. I was cross because the trousers were clean on that morning.
Passenger behaviour on public transport has been kind too. I always get a seat as I sway into the bus or the tube carriage. As I totter on, people have caught me to stop me falling as the vehicle has moved off.
Are we feeling sicker? Does the pandemic improve our empathy? Has the pandemic improved our attitudes to the ill?
Walking whilst ill 