The Hearts Against Hancock

As the days got colder and longer, the British public disassociated from their normal lives and readied themselves for their annual reality TV binge that sees them through to the end of the year. One eagerly anticipated show consisted of celebrities eating animal testicles down under on I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

On 8th November 2022, the excitement quickly dropped when a rage-inducing bombshell descended as former Health Secretary Matt Hancock was announced as a late arrival to the jungle. Hancock’s claim to fame was seeing over at least 100,000 deaths as the Commander-in-Chief in the war against Covid. Instead of protecting his civilians like the valiant beacon of hope he claimed to be, he lied and applauded away all the problems he created with his government chums.

For a lot of people, he did not deserve to be called a celebrity, but an irredeemable criminal. A human mosquito desperately leeching off any appearance he could find- clinging onto the scraps of his already tarnished reputation.

The announcement of his public resurgence took me back to March of this year. I was standing with hundreds of people in Westminster, staring at a wall with red hearts painted on, each represented with a loved one lost to Covid-19. It was the anniversary of the first heart painted on that wall and a year later, the wall stretched beyond what my eyes could see. Rows of red and grief, pointed towards the House of Commons, as if the wall was screaming at the politicians over the River Thames. In the seas of anguish and sadness I saw that day, many bereaved said the government was at fault. And as Health Secretary, along with Prime Minister Boris Johnson, he was the figurehead of that anger and blame.

Hancock came third in the show. The public had clearly warmed to him. However, his desperate pleas for forgiveness fell on many deaf ears and the bereaved did not want to hear his empty apologies. He may have won hearts of the nation, however the hearts painted on that wall begged to disagree.

One of the hearts on the wall belonged to Stuart Goodman, a 72-year-old man from Norfolk who died in the first wave of the pandemic in April 2020. His daughter Jo was abroad in India at the time, and was due to fly back to the UK for her dad’s book launch on the 20th March. Stuart ended up cancelling the book launch as he didn’t think it would be wise for him to be in a crowded place as the Covid cases started to climb.

Image: Jo Goodman

On the day that Jo was supposed to fly back, Stuart had a hospital appointment where he would receive the diagnosis that he had cancer. Jo panicked and tried to see her dad as quickly as possible as it seemed like the UK was about to go into lockdown. Jo managed to get a ticket for the penultimate flight out of Mumbai back to Norfolk much to her relief.

When the morning of the appointment came around, Jo felt apprehensive about her dad going and said: “Oh dad, I really don’t think you should be going to hospital today. You know you shouldn’t be going places.” However, in his stubborn nature, he was adamant to go.

Jo arrived back in Norfolk two days later. She dropped her suitcase and sobbed at the end of the garden path outside her parent’s house. Her mum was crying by the doorway unable to hug or have any physical contact for comfort while Stuart was resting, unwell in his bed.

On the first day of lockdown, Stuart started his first chemotherapy treatment and he seemed fine after, however during the week his condition started to worsen.

It was a strange recurrence to Jo. Stuart was ill around the same time for two years in a row. It was just as the clocks went forward, the year before it was for heart failure and exactly a year later, Stuart was in an ambulance rushing to the hospital again.

Jo’s Mum phoned in, telling her not to panic and that her dad was taken into hospital with a fever and was sick throughout the night. Jo presumed it was a side-effect of his chemotherapy treatment.

She called Stuart who said because he had a fever, was moved to the Covid assessment ward which concerned Jo as she thought that he would more likely get it there than anywhere else. It was the least of her expectations that her dad might have this virus dominating the news and taking over everyone’s lives.

On Monday evening, Jo’s mum called again. ‘Are you sitting down?... it’s covid.’

All Jo could do was scream as she knew from that point, her dad was going to die. It was the worst night’s sleep she ever had. All she did was toss and turn.

The week kept taking a major turn for the worst. On Monday, Stuart was diagnosed with cancer, on Tuesday he started getting severely unwell and by Wednesday, Jo was exhausted. ‘Dad just hold on tonight because I just need some rest. I can’t deal with this anymore.’

As soon as her head hit her pillow, she got a phone call from the hospital. Her Dad wasn’t going to make it. She made sure her mum would be by his side as he passed. She sat with her brother in the hospital chapel and waited, the eerie and empty atmosphere filling the room and surrounding them.

It was as peaceful as it could have been. One thousand people died on the same day as Stuart- the first day to hit that sombre milestone.

Image: Jo Goodman

She stepped out of the hospital with her brother and mum, their entire world changed forever. The last memory Jo remembered of her dad, he was in a delirious state, and he said: ‘Your mother is glowing!’ as if she came to him in a vision, which gave her a chuckle.

Jo was completely devastated, but that devastation quickly turned to anger. She knew it wasn’t a good idea for her dad to go to that appointment. She concluded with the timeline of events that took place, he most likely got infected at the appointment on that Monday.

He received his shielding letter nine days after his death.

She felt strongly that Stuart’s death could’ve been prevented if Covid was taken more seriously.

Jo watched the person she loved the most suffer every minute, every hour, every day. It was the most heart-breaking thing she has ever had to witness.

She gave birth to her first child four months ago and had to accept that her son will grow up without his grandad.

“You might think the most important thing in the world right now is going to the pub, or to the shops or to go to a football match… but just imagine you have to trade that for the most precious person in your life. Would you be happy if you knew what you were doing was going to lead to losing them?”

A little bit further down the wall, another painted heart represented John David Leigh who passed away on 16th April 2020 at the age of 80. His daughter Sioux raised money climbing the mountain Kinder Scout to raise money for 38 degrees and Covid Bereaved Families for Justice UK. The money was raised for a publicity stunt to fly a banner over the I’m a Celebrity camp saying: ‘Covid Bereaved Say Get Out of There!’

Image: Sioux Hill

John was in assisted accommodation as he had broken both of his hips and was bed bound. He often got UTI infections as he didn’t get up and walk around and was in hospital frequently.

On the 30th March, John was admitted back into hospital for a suspected UTI. The doctor asked Sioux if her dad had a DNAR (Do Not Attempt Resuscitation notice) and when she asked what it meant she dropped the phone in a frozen shock. She thought that her dad was a dead man walking in the hospital already on the first day he went in.

Sioux rang the hospital every day for answers. It was a rollercoaster ride of news; things looked okay, then things would look bad right after.

The next day, the doctors told Sioux that her dad had a low temperature. So, she sighed a huff of relief as she thought at least he didn’t have Covid. She researched what a low temperature symptom would be, it came up as sepsis. She asked the doctors if John was treated for sepsis, and they confirmed it. She was infuriated that the doctors didn’t notify her sooner. They gave John a Covid test, but it went missing.

That Saturday, she received a phone call from a care home worker proposing that John should stay there. They said things were looking good for him, he had a yoghurt and was perking up. However, the main reason why they called was because John was just diagnosed with Covid-19.

Sioux took a step back. They suggested this ‘amazing package’ that allowed her to visit him unlike in the hospital. They told her she couldn’t speak to a medical professional until Monday.

The two day wait for that call was dreadful. She was mortified that they suggested putting her dad in a care home as he could put other people at risk. She fought twice to not have him put there.

When Monday rolled around, the medical consultant said that they made a mistake with the phone call made in the weekend. Sioux thought: ‘Oh! He’s not got Covid! Great!’. However, the mistake was that they weren’t looking for a bed for him and confirmed he was diagnosed with Covid over the weekend.

He was soon after put on end of life care. Sioux recalled through tears how she was shocked that they could move her dad without her permission. They also failed to tell her that John would move to several different bays and every time it was during the night. Whenever Sioux woke up in the morning, she would think her Dad had already died when in reality, nobody knew where he was. They only wanted to open up more beds, readying the influx of covid patients for the incoming first wave.

They offered to move John to a care home again. Sioux pleaded that her dad died with dignity. Not in an ambulance halfway between the care home and the hospital. ‘Please let him die with dignity in hospital, please.’

She got on a train to visit him, mind racing, wracked with anxiety. A feeling she never experienced before, suddenly struck her continuously for eighteen painfully long days. She knew he wasn’t going to make it; she was scared of leaving her family but was determined to see her dad one last time. Her daughter came with her, Sioux tried to warn her away as she didn’t want to put her daughter at risk. ‘I don’t care. I’m coming with you mum.’

Sioux heedfully walked outside the hospital with her daughter. The strange hot weather on a spring day made her put shorts and a T-shirt on, mindful of the hazmat suit and shoes that she thought she would wear in the Covid ward.

Instead, she was given a plastic apron, a paper mask and ten minutes.

In Sioux’s words, John was ‘a shell of a man’. He didn’t seem aware that she was right next to him. “I wish that I kissed him. I wish that I hugged him. I held his hand, but I was terrified. I also didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want him to know he was dying.”

John’s hobby was being a DJ. He used to play at weddings and would always put on the Rupert the Bear song. When Sioux was younger, whenever he’d play it, Sioux would immediately get up and dance and everyone would join her, as if she was his own dancefloor filler.

Image: Sioux Hill

Sioux played Rupert the Bear by his bedside as their last DJ gig, John raised one eyebrow. He knew she was next to him. She left soon after.

As she left the Covid ward, a nurse stopped Sioux and pointed at the Tiffany necklace that she was wearing. It was a present that her sister got for her for her fiftieth birthday. The nurse said ‘You have to scrub that, and you have to scrub your whole body. You have to scrub and scrub and scrub because you’ve only got a little apron on.’ Her daughter greeted her outside and hugged her, clutching her as hard as she could not caring about the restrictions.

The hospital was far away from her home, so she stayed at a friend's house for the time being. It was just Sioux and her daughter, watchfully waiting for more news in the deafening silence with their belongings in a black bin liner.

She woke up the next morning, hoping to see her dad again. She didn’t know how long John had left, but she didn’t manage to say goodbye the day before. The phone rang, it was the hospital at the other end of the line: ‘Your Dad has passed.’

Image: Sioux Hill

16th April 2021. Exactly, a year later, two leaving events took place in Number 10. As Sioux mourned, scattering her dad’s ashes alone, politicians partied drowning themselves in wine with glee. A horrifying juxtaposition, which Hancock was ready to defend.

Those were only two stories. As of writing this, around 210,000 more loved ones have joined the wall since John and Stuart, each with their own stories to tell. For Hancock, it was a fleeting career choice. A way of repairing his spiritless ego. For Sioux and Jo, their dads were treated as collateral damage, a cost that they will never get back.

As Hancock walks away from the jungle with a smile on his face; Jo and Sioux, as well as millions of others, walk away with a painted red heart on a wall.

Image: Sioux Hill