Covid 19 Delta outbreak: How I escaped getting infected at home

A close contact in Auckland's August Delta outbreak avoided catching Delta despite being in the same house as an infected person. Photo / Mark Mitchell

Opinion

OPINION:

The day my son tested positive for Covid-19 it was a foregone conclusion that I would also become sick.

The woman who took my swab said so. The Ministry of Health's top officials said so. And Delta's reproduction rate said so.

And yet, somehow, despite living in close quarters with an infectious person for eight days, I did not test positive.

There were at least two days when I was directly exposed to Delta-laced aerosol as we shared meals, watched television and chatted throughout the day.

So how did I manage to evade the highly contagious virus and end the chain of transmission in my home?

Long testing queues snaked through New Lynn as worried locals sought Covid-19 tests. Photo / Sylvie Whinray

While there was a degree of good fortune once the illness showed its hand I didn't leave anything to chance.

The very morning my son opened his bedroom door, his face flushed by fever and complaining of a headache, we immediately took precautions even without the certainty of a Covid diagnosis.

The first involved both wearing masks inside whenever we were in a shared space.

For the next five days when my son ventured out of his bedroom we would don masks.

It seemed the sensible thing to do given we were in the initial stages of a pandemic and Delta was spread through the air.

The second action we took was to keep our distance inside, wherever possible.

In many respects my son began quarantine well before he ended up in Jet Park.

While he wasn't confined to his bedroom, we rarely spent any time in the same room together.

There were many occasions we couldn't avoid each other as he passed by the dining room table where I was working to reach the kitchen.

But on every occasion the masks were our protective barrier.

When my son first fell ill none of the mushrooming exposure sites tallied with his movements.

None of his circle of friends and acquaintances had contracted the infection, or close contacts.

Though, on the day he was tested, I strongly suspected his illness was connected to the outbreak.

His symptom checklist was almost textbook - a headache, hot flashes, a new and worsening cough and loss of taste and smell. By the time the results had been processed and the phone call came confirming he had Covid, neither of us were surprised.

The day before a location of interest had appeared on the Government health website that matched his movements just prior to lockdown.

He had made a quick visit to a West Auckland mall supermarket and used a self-service checkout. He spoke with no one.

Five weeks on he has no idea who the infected person was who exhaled and spread infected droplets in the air. Health officials regard him as an indeterminate case.

With my son ferried to quarantine I became one of the near 40,000 close contacts in this current outbreak that required testing and 14 days in self-isolation.

Jet Park quarantine facility in Mangere, South Auckland. Photo / Sylvie Whinray

My first swab took place within hours of learning my son was positive. I was briefed over the phone by a public health official and after extensive questioning about my health and movements I was told to stay put for the next fortnight. The only reason I could leave my property was for compulsory Covid swabs on Day 1, 5 and 12.

After my first test the woman who took it warned it was inevitable I would catch Covid. I later learned everyone at the surgery took a surveillance test that same day.

The first result came on a phone call from a doctor which I immediately took to be a bad sign as only positive cases are contacted personally. But I had been waiting for more than 24 hours and she thought I'd want to know the test was negative.

To my mind the day 5 swab was pivotal. I had now been apart from my son the same amount of time as it took for him to fall sick.

I sat in a long car queue on a quiet Sunday morning, mask over my face, and enjoyed the outing. It was, after all, the only legitimate reason I could leave home. I was feeling great.

The second negative test pinged on my phone at 7.05am the next day. I shared the news with colleagues. We celebrated online. I even told epidemiologist Professor Michael Baker about my situation. He said I should write about it. I didn't want to tempt fate until I had a negative day 12 test.

Baker expressed interest that my bubble had employed indoor mask use knowing that it wasn't mandated on official advice. He said it was an important element in preventing household spread.

The final test, taken on a Monday afternoon when testing levels across Auckland had dipped dramatically from the record levels in the first 10 days of the pandemic, was a quick affair.

On Tuesday at 7am I announced to colleagues with a personal newsflash: I had dodged Delta. They celebrated with me and said I should bottle my blood.

When it came to purging my house of the virus, there was no deep clean to speak of. Instead, I opened windows and doors on fine days and let the air circulate. I had read how good ventilation wards against disease spread. I hoped along with a clean set of linen this would suffice.

Last week my son returned home with a letter from public health saying he was no longer infectious. We hugged for the first time in a month. My self-isolation ended days later. The first trip outside my home was to a doctor's surgery to get vaccinated.

Delta had sneaked through my front door three weeks prior. We succeeded in making sure it was evicted soon after.