My Mum, My Hero

As we meet the one-year anniversary of the first lockdown, many of us will reflect on the memories we created, the moments that could have been, but also the tragedies inflicted on so many families.

Many people will treat 2020 as the year which must not be named, but it’s also important to remember those who have sacrificed their mental and physical well-being – and even their lives – for the citizens of the United Kingdom. Where would we be without the NHS? Perhaps making the words ‘superhero’ and ‘NHS workers’ synonymous is overrated, but if you met my mum, you wouldn’t think so.

As an NHS worker, my mum – like so many others on the frontline in the battle against Covid-19 – has sacrificed a lot to keep this country afloat, and what do they get in return? An abundance of performative clapping, cheering and a 1% pay rise. It’s not reckless to say that the government simply doesn’t care about the well-being of the working class. And it is simply not enough for the government to act with nonchalance when they are ruining millions of lives: these are not figures, not statistics, not data, but real people.

During this pandemic, we have learnt how low our Government will go to protect themselves and their wealthy allies. We witnessed former chief adviser Dominic Cummings break lockdown rules and face no repercussions, as Boris Johnson refused to reprimand or even sack him.

That is why my mum is my superhero because no matter how many lows she has experienced over the past year somehow, she manages to find the positive, regain some new-found faith and is a stronger woman than she was the day before

We have witnessed Secretary of State for Health, Matt Hancock, act unlawfully by delaying the publication of contracts carried out during the pandemic and giving pandemic PPE contracts to friends. With all the money that the government seem content with wasting, such as Boris Johnson repainting his own private jet which costs the taxpayer £900,000, creating the ‘NHS Test and Trace’ service and app last May for it to fail and result in £4 billion being wasted. Not to mention, the Prime Minister trying to set up a charity that could fund the refurbishments for his Downing Street flat. For all these reasons, the government measly pay rise for NHS workers is insulting. 

So, where does the likening of my mum and being a superhero begin? Growing up on the tiny island of Tobago, she didn’t dream of becoming a nurse, but it was her mother’s dream and so it became hers. The first woman in her family to go to university, the first woman in her family to move overseas to somewhere completely new, but yet she persevered and made something of herself.

The same perseverance and courage my mother had 23 years ago, when she came to this country alone, still resonates with her today which pushes her to go to her ward every day with a brave smile on her face whilst reassuring her patients and staff. 

As I think of my mum, I can’t help but wonder about the children who are in similar positions to me. I think about how their parents work tirelessly to be paid with nothing substantial in return, which feels like a kick in the teeth to them. I think about the children whose parents sacrifice their lives for others yet are unable to be present in theirs. I’ll never forget the look on my mum’s face when she watched the anti-lockdown protesters outside St Thomas’ Hospital on the 10 o’clock news, a mixture of defeat and sadness appeared. It’s not fair for NHS workers to constantly deal with abuse and mistreatment. 

Hearing the repetitive slogan coined by the government ‘Stay home, Protect the NHS, Save Lives’, yet failing to practice what they preach. My mum protected her staff in the best way she could. Since the first lockdown, she started buying groceries for her vulnerable staff who are shielding, creating donations for those who are financially struggling, and baking her famous lemon drizzle and carrot cakes for her ward weekly as an attempt to uplift their spirits. 

Seeing the traumatic effects on my mother coming home from every shift with her head held low, deep heavy sighs escaping her lungs whilst whispering a quick prayer to God in her Trinbagonian accent, asking and begging for more strength, more guidance and more courage. I see how defeated she feels, but the next day she leaves with a glimmer of hope, her head held high and a cheery “see you later!”.

And that is why my mum is my superhero because no matter how many lows she has experienced over the past year somehow, she manages to find the positive, regain some new-found faith and is a stronger woman than she was the day before. 

Feature image by Martin Eklund from Pixabay.