Social care assistant Audrey Halley runs a nail bar and manicure with resident Helen Ford at McClymont House
Sparky the budgie is bouncing on his perch to strains of Abba at McClymont House care home, in Lanark, while Helen Ford has her nails filed and painted with a glossy pearl polish that matches the enamel on her bracelet.
It is mid-morning, but the frost on the grass beneath her window is still melting, turning to heavy droplets that glitter in the sharp autumn sunlight.
Audrey Halley, a social care assistant, strokes the 78-year-old’s hands gently through thin plastic gloves, massaging her wrists and knuckles. Amid the myriad privations that the Covid pandemic has inflicted, it is the prohibition of touch, the sustaining press of skin on skin, that can seem most unkind.
Residents and staff at McClymont House
But gloves don’t change the warmth of a grip, and Halley holds Ford’s hands lightly as the nail polish dries. “It’s about having that one-to-one time,” she explains later, “making eye contact. People can get down not seeing their family.”
Visiting care homes across South Lanarkshire on a bright September day, there is still heat in the sun but the workers we meet cannot help but anticipate winter.
Residents and staff do their daily exercise at McClymont House
Their arrangements for hygiene, PPE, testing, are by now militarily precise: that these women, and men, are on the frontline is in no doubt. As coronavirus infection rates rise across Scotland, there is a steely commitment to meet what is to come. As one worker tells me: “I don’t think we’ve been lucky [to be Covid-free so far] , we’ve been very, very careful.”
For now, it is a shadow beneath the cheery descriptions of balloon tennis and socially distanced bingo, along with a deep concern about the challenges of winter weather for increasingly desperate relatives if restriction on indoor visiting remain in place.
Yvonne Young with resident Bett O’Brien plays skittles at McKillop Gardens, East Kilbride
Over the past month, anxious relatives have lobbied the Scottish parliament, sharing heart-breaking stories of separation from loved ones, in particular the toll that prolonged isolation is taking on those with dementia, who relied on daily stimulation from visitors. Reports suggest that a relaxation in visiting rules could be imminent.
Care home workers are well aware of relatives’ frustrations, do their best to make outside visits as comfortable and creative as possible – at McClymont, tables are set up in the conservatory with white table cloths and china for afternoon tea. Staff repeat it like a mantra: “While this is goes on, we are their family.”
Staff member Amber Lochridge follows safety guidelines at McKillop Gardens
At McKillop Gardens, East Kilbride, visitors benefit from a sturdy wooden gazebo, decorated with coloured lightbulbs and mosaic glass. “Relatives do get frustrated,” says Yvonne Young, a senior social care worker, “but they don’t take it out on the staff. Some residents forget why their families have not been for a while, so they need a bit of reassurance.”
John Christianson helps with the weeding at McKillop Gardens
John Christianson is poking at the flower beds that circle the seating area with a homemade hoe propped up on his wheelchair. It has a thinner blade that makes it better for dislodging individual weeds in between the rose and heather bushes that his son planted for him.
Both need pruning, but of course his son hasn’t been able to come in all summer. Still, they have a system: the 90-year-old’s room overlooks the pavement at the back of the building: his son stands outside and rings his father’s mobile phone, so that he can wheel himself to the window.
It’s the restrictions on movement that bother him most, he explains: before lockdown he enjoyed pottering around the nearby conservation village, and there were trips to Glasgow and Troon. “But I understand the virus is accelerating even now. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise the safety of this home. I’ve seen what happened on Skye and other places.”
Libby Brooks speaks to Heather Brown at Meldrum House
A mile or so south of East Kilbride, Heather Brown takes charge of the tablet at Meldrum House. She had worked for the council’s leisure department for 33 years, until her sports centre closed at the start of lockdown and she volunteered to help with Skype calls here.
“The residents think it amazing but they don’t understand how it works, so they ask me, but I don’t really understand how it works either! I just tell them its magic.”
It’s been a lifeline, she adds seriously. “Some families don’t want to do a garden visit because they think the distancing will upset them, or they don’t want to leave without holding their hand. Skype doesn’t seem to upset people in the same way.”
Like all the care homes the Guardian visited for this snap-shot, Meldrum House has been thoughtfully designed with an accessible private garden, and there are discussions about buying outdoor heaters to ease winter visiting.
Gardening on a balcony at McKillop Gardens
“It is still very hard for people not getting to see their families,” says Adelle Gibson, a senior social care worker. Most residents are pragmatic, she adds: “A lot of people have been through stuff like this before. There’s one lady of 103 who has been through two wars.”
Staff at least feel in a stronger position going into a second peak. Gibson says: “I do feel for homes that had outbreaks, because in March nobody knew what to do, how to clean, [there were] PPE supply problems, but we’ve got the experience now.”
Betty Colligan is making tissue paper flowers at a table by the window. She has broken her arm, leaving her less dexterous with the glue stick. “These are rubbish,” she tuts.
Resident Betty Colligan, right, works on arts and crafts at Meldrum House
The 85-year-old has a son in Wales and two grandchildren, who she speaks to on Skype. “I miss them so much,” she says. “But the care here is wonderful. This is my home now.”