On March 9th I fell ill with symptoms not unlike Covid-19. I was due an appointment with my GP regarding a different issue on the 12th but called ahead for advice.

They told me to call the HSE to get tested for the virus, which I did after they told me that I would still have an appointment, if only over the phone.

I didn’t know if I had encountered any cases. The HSE informed me that I “definitely didn’t have the virus,” not because of my symptoms, but because Dublin was not a “red zone.”

On the 11th my Dad picked me up from the house I was sharing with college friends, which we fondly referred to as “The Groove.” They promised all kinds of craic for when I had recovered, but I was still sad to leave them. That was the last time we were all in that house together.

Despite being fatigued, aching, and with a fierce pain in my chest, I got up before 9am on the 12th to sit by the phone, as the GP promised to call first thing. Fear of the virus was getting out of hand in the media and I was worried that I would lose my appointment altogether.

After five hours and with my appointment coming up at 2,30pm, my Mum drove me to the doctor’s surgery and went in on my behalf. She was told that the GP would call me soon; they had cancelled all face-to-face appointments. We waited in the car for 40 minutes. Mum went in again. She came back and said the GP would come down instead.

After another 40 minutes, the GP came to the car and glanced me over through the window.

She said that the HSE was wrong to say that I “definitely didn’t” have the virus, because maybe I did, but they couldn’t test me there.

That was it. I didn’t get seen to for the issue I booked in for, and I didn’t get a sick certificate for work and college; I received an appointment card and told the office over the phone that this would not be acceptable for work because I needed to provide proof of days that I was unwell - only a sick certificate is valid for that.

I was told that they “don’t do those” even though I had called the HSE and they said otherwise (but offered no alternative to the GP’s refusal). The call cut off and they didn’t answer again.

The following Monday I was called by a different doctor, who sent me to get tested on the 18th, despite what I had been told by the GP and the HSE the week before.

She sounded more sympathetic and agreed to the certificate. I requested it from Monday the 9th, as was clear from my calling the office, and asked if I could get it to the end of the week, as at this stage I was no longer bed bound.

She offered to make it to Monday the 22nd just in case I still wasn’t well for work, as I would have to wait 3 days after the test for results anyway. I was touched by her kindness, and was relieved that I wouldn’t have to stress about getting paid from work to cover rent, or for rushing to complete all my assignments which I had fallen behind on from the week before; the study week which I lost due to illness.

My Dad went to pick up the certificate a few days later, but he had a struggle as the receptionist told him that they “don’t do those” repeatedly until she got in touch with the second GP who had called me but she was suddenly reluctant to give one. When he made it home, I was upset to see that she had given me one with dates from the 12th to the 16th. It didn’t even go as far as the 18th, when I had to get tested. The test that she organised herself.

The office never returned any calls, the phone wouldn’t even ring when I tried to call them.

I could not get paid for the days I missed being sick or the days following in isolation when I waited on my test results. I hoped to take up as many hours as possible before the shop where I worked closed, as that was a strong possibility at that point. I waited a week, and from then any call to the HSE just said that my results should come in another day or two. Over and over. I still have not received them, almost a month later.

My employer would not let me return or pay me for my sick days, because I had no proof that I was sick, neither did I have proof that I was virus-free. I suppose it doesn’t matter now, since everyone is isolating, and grants are available.

The only time I left my house since then was to pack the stuff from my student house and return the keys, one girl and I were the last to do so.

The others were long gone as Dublin was the epicentre of the virus and being out of work, we could not afford to keep it. The landladies congratulated us on how well we took care of the house. They even gave a good reference... but refused to give back our deposit. More debt for me.

My college, UCD, has offered extensions galore but I have been set back weeks in my work due to illness and moving. My GPA has suffered; not ideal at the end of the final-year of my degree.

Trust me when I say that this isolation business is no fun, but the more time we spend at home now, hopefully the less time we will have to spend in isolation in the summer.