NDE -

 It was the long weekend of March 2026. A few weeks out of hospital after undergoing vascular surgery, and only days after my abdication from commitments at the Port Fairy Folk Festival, I looked forward to a restful weekend. With my wife away at the festival, Sunday morning seemed a good time to attempt a relaxing stroll around the property. In the back paddock (leased to a neighbour to accomodate sheep, horses and other assorted animals) some miscellaneous branches of wood attracted my attention, prompting the thought that I should retrieve them. With a "yet to heal" surgical wound in my groin,  I tentatively negotiated the crudely constructed stile and landed safely on "The Other Side".  A flock of nearby sheep, although aware of my intrusion, seemed unpeturbed as I casually began to pick up sticks. Suddenly any sense of  complacency I may have been harbouring was cut short by a thud to my hindquarters.

Damn! -- I'd forgotten about the aggressive wether that had head-butted me on the buttocks a few months ago, not to mention a later attack on one of my grandchildren. Recalling the  deterrent technique I had previously employed,  I turned to shoo the predatory creature away. This time it was ready though -- charging headlong towards me,  knocking me to the ground. 

Gathering my senses,  I attempted to scramble to my feet. Before I became upright,  it charged again, returning me to a supine position.  At this point I momentarily recalled an underground New York record label called "DeathbySheep", and decided on another approach. On hands and knees I met the next charge by grabbing the recalcitrant sheep's legs, bringing it to the ground and constricting its mobility by lying on top of it.  As I caught my breath I considered my next move. Glancing to my left,  I detected a potential escape route only 10 metres away  --  a gate. Admittedly it had a chain on it, but it was the best option available. I arose cautiously from the temporarily passive animal, ready to return it to a subduable state at a moment's notice. In the absence of any ovine musculoskeletal activity, I took the chance to hobble to the gate. Fumbling with the chain,  I caught sight of my adversary rising from the ground as its awareness of the lack of restraint increased.  Before it was able to re-focus on my location I was through the gate and breathing fresh air.

As I sat gathering my senses I received a phone call from my daughter asking if I wanted to be picked up to go to Port Fairy. She seemed astonished to hear that I had just been attacked by a sheep and would probably take it easy at home. Although accepting my assertion that I was okay, she said she would drop in later. Mid afternoon she did indeed arrive,  with family in tow. My son in law expressed a desire to collect some animal manure to use as fertiliser in his garden. "No problem" I said, adding that maybe it wouldn't be the wisest move to climb the fence into the paddock where the offending sheep was domiciled. Seemingly unperturbed by this piece of advice, he scaled the aformentioned stile armed with a bucket and a stick to fend off any potential assailant. 

Before he had a chance to collect any manure the rogue wether charged toward him, fracturing the plastic bucket and sending it spiralling. A second charge rendered the stick useless as a weapon by reducing it to splinters. My three year old grandson, in his mother's arms, began screaming at the horror unfolding before his eyes - a howl that did not abait even after his father (who had greater agility than myself) made an escape over the stile. It would be many months, and hours of trauma counselling,  before the child would have enough courage to go anywhere near the sheep's paddock.

Later that night I used Google AI to try hand find out how to handle an agressive wether. The search produced this information : "The Submissive Pin: For severe or recurring aggression, you can physically flip the wether onto its side or back and pin it down. Hold the animal down until it stops struggling and completely relaxes. This demonstrates that you are the dominant herd leader. "

Oh well, we thought

A trip where things go wrong even before departure may be a warning to some, to others not so much. A clutch fault in the campervan required a repair! Oh well, we thought, it had to be done. What's a mere $2000 for peace of mind? The mechanic said he could do it the day before we planned to leave. But wait - the wrong part was delivered, and a new one had to be ordered, meaning a 3 day wait. Oh well, we thought, what's a few days in scheme of things?

Eventually departing, we headed off with a couple of containers of firewood strapped to the roof of the van. At our first stop, about a hundred kilometres away from home, a check of the boxes revealed that a polystyrene lid had snapped in half and flown into the wilderness. Oh well, we thought, polystyrene is not that heavy, and, if by chance it had landed on any unsuspecting vehicle following us, there wouldn't be much damage.

It wasn't long before a caravan park near Broken Hill provided an opportunity for another mishap. At the entry to the park there was a pole with a gate entry security code pad on it. Attempting to get within arm's reach of it, the side rear vision mirror of the van became wedged and it was necessary to back cautiously out. Oh well, we thought,  the pole is not bent, and the mirror only marginally damaged, let's move on.

A short time later the Muntawintji National Park gifted us one of its finest gum trees to reverse into, smashing a tail light and denting the tail gate. Oh well, we thought, at least we can still drive the van - let's light a campfire.

\

Damaged tail light

Dented tail gate

After a couple of days the weather forecast mentioned rain in the area, prompting a decision to evacuate. Observing the sign that said "Muntawintji - White Cliffs Road - OPEN",  we headed off on the 130 odd kilometre unsealed road. It was a little over half way that the road became a muddy bog that caused us to slip and slide. Oh well, we thought, we should be able to drive on. Some kilometres along we noticed limited wheel traction,  and an inspection revealed accumulated mud under the mudguards . 

Attempting to clear mud

Mud from shoes inside the cabin

Drivers side view

Front wheel

After clearing out some mud and driving a few kilometres we found ourselves stuck in a creekbed. Uh oh -- being in a creekbed didn't have a good vibe about it,  given the prospect of more rain.  After several attempts we managed to get out backwards, but we had lost enthusiasm for going forwards. Thoughts of news bulletins such as "Elderly couple die of starvation in remote area" emerged in our minds. No mobile phone reception, no passing traffic - just red mud. 

Creekbed and tracks from reversing

But wait - it dawned on us that there was an SOS function on phones that are out of reception areas. Amazingly, this seemed to connect to a satellite and allow text messages to an operator who could report our predicament to authorities. We could be rescued. After about 3 hours, with darkness a lot closer than it had been when we made the call, and vultures circling overhead, we decided a follow up call was needed. Reassured that someone was coming, we relaxed for another hour and half until the SES arrived. 

Making a cup tea while waiting

Rescuers

Our saviours cleared mud from the wheels of the van to get in a drivable state. They commented that one tyre seemed a little flat. Oh well, we thought, probably a slow leak.  They then followed us for the 60 kilometre drive into White Cliffs and the safety of a sealed road. A glance back at the sign at this end of the dirt road revealed the words "White Cliffs -- Muntawintji Road - CLOSED". 

Van when it reached White Cliffs

We booked a room at the White Cliffs Hotel, which had country music blasting throughout from10 am to 10 pm, and woke the next morning to find the tyre that had been a little flat was now a lot flat. No mechanics or garages in sight, but there was an air compressor at the general store. We pumped the tyre up, and it got us the 93 kilometres to Wilcannia, but still - no garages, no mechanics  and no mobile phone reception. Oh well, we thought,  we should be able to get back to Broken Hill. The van was driving a little roughly, but maybe it needed a wheel alignment.

About 80 kilometres outside of Broken Hill we were shaken out complacency by a sudden explosion. A tyre (not the one that had a slow leak) had completely disintegrated. Here we were again - in the middle of nowhere with no phone reception. But - we did have a spare tyre. Attempts to undo the bolts holding the spare tyre were unsucessful, as were attempts to release all the bolts on the damaged tyre. Surely we couldn't call the SOS centre for a second day running? Then a thought - there was, at least, passing traffic. We hailed down a truckie (named Jason) who stopped and provided some much needed tools and muscle to change the tyre. The operation teetered on disaster when the vehicle fell off the jack and almost crushed Jason's hand. After the heart stopping moment, we sprayed a bit of antiseptic on his hand and persuaded him to complete the task.

Decimated tyre

Jason's truck

Jason and Helen moments before the car fell off the jack

Arriving at Broken Hill just before the close of business, we found a tyre repair facility where we could fit a new tyre. It seems that accumulated mud had led to the mudguard liners detaching, causing some friction. 

The following morning the "slow leaking tyre" was down again.  Oh well, we thought, at least we had phone reception to call the NRMA to change it. The mechanic who arrived did not appear to be a man in love with his job (as witnessed by his opening statement "I'm too old for this shit"), but he did change the tyre. Later that day the staff at the Tyre repair station were amazed to see us back again. They were even more amazed when, as we departed,  we caused a loud bang by driving over a concrete parking divider outside their premises.

Dozens of phone calls to repairers for the mudguard liners led nowhere - too busy, staff shortages etc! Oh well, we thought, we'll just have to take our chances, but first let's visit the Railway Museum. As we parked opposite the museum we noticed we were right in front of  a building proudly displaying the sign "K and J Crash Repairs". What did we have to lose? The proprietor took pity on us and agreed to do a temporary repair the next morning. When we finally picked up the vehicle Helen rewarded him by responding to his statement that he had two grandchildren who were both "Rev heads" with "Oh yes we've got a couple of grandchildren who are red heads".

Temporary repairs to mudguard liners

Eventually we headed south to Mildura and immediatley purchased a "Starlink mini" kit to allow satellite Internet connection in remote areas. Oh well, we thought, it could be useful should we ever have the courage to venture into the outback again!

Starlink Packaging

Michael Schack's birthday party

 

Michael Schack's birthday party

Composed by Frank Duggan 2020

On the verandah of Mickey Bourke's Hotel the

Wednesday Whistlers did play

In the town of Koroit for Michael Schack's birthday

The barroom of the pub was full to the brim

His family and friends were all there for him

The great Michael Schack a man among men

he made it to his birthday of three score and ten

Of his life he has some great stories to tell

To survive a liver transplant he's one who has done well

Of all the musicians of Victoria's south west

The humble Michael Schack remains one of the best

A quietly spoken fellow of few words to say

But truly a leader in his own down to Earth way

His lovely wife Helen for her man full of pride

As beautiful as the day she became his bride

Devoted to each other for so many years

They have shared their moments of laughter and tears

He is one not in a hurry to his grave

To undergo and survive a liver transplant one has to be brave

A down to earth fellow yet one to inspire

For his great love of life he is one to admire

A man of his word on whom you can depend

For his kindness and humility he has won many a friend

So many his birthday -- party did attend

The sort of day one hopes would never end

Good memories of Michael Schack's birthday will remain

In the future us all who attended to visit again

A major health scare he has had to survive

And so good to see him looking happy and well and alive

In the lounge of the pub Michael played with the Dead Livers his musician friends of the past

At Michael Schack's party a few hours went so fast

In the Koroit Hotel on a warm February evening out of the sun

Only smiling faces, everyone having fun

A huge milestone birthday for the great Michael Schack

One of late who has many a major health setback

One of life's quiet achievers in truth one can say

He did have a huge turnout for his birthday

One not in a hurry to join the ranks of the dead

In 2020 a great year for him may be ahead

His favourite team Collingwood may well win the AFL premiership flag

For one like him this would be worthy of a quiet brag

Staging it

 On a day when the temperature was tipped to exceed 40 degrees the most welcome text message I received was the one advising the cancellation of Folk Festival gigs on the Fiddlers Green between 1.30 and 5.30 pm. By some act of the gods this coincided with my scheduled shift as stage manager, and left me free to endure the heat in a manner of my choice. It left me, however, with one shift to complete on Sunday night.

I arrived at my designated venue (the Shebeen Bar) at the regulation 15 minutes early, to be greeted by the preceding stage manager. She said she would introduce me to the venue supervisor (assuredly “very officious”) who would take me through some sort of induction process and make me sign a piece of paper to indicate I had understood what he told me. 

The induction involved pointing out the whereabouts of exits, fire extinguishers etc., and more importantly, the need for me to be wearing closed footwear rather than the open “slide sandals” I was sporting. I assured him I had some shoes in the car (which it turns out I didn’t) and would change. Eventually I donned a pair of dark socks to make it look less obvious than bare feet.

Towards the conclusion of the supervisor’s address a group of half a dozen teenage girls burst into the backstage area, purportedly seeking autographs from members of the very popular band “19 Twenty”,  who were preparing for their upcoming performance. I commented to the supervisor that these looked like groupies, and queried the legitimacy of their presence in the area. He immediately swung into action, telling the girls they could leave their items to be autographed with him and he would give them to the band, whilst they would have to wait outside (thus avoiding any activities other than autograph collecting).

“19 Twenty” whipped the audience into a frenzy and the screams of “more” at the end of its 60 minute set could only be quelled by an announcement regarding the need for changeover time. During a lull in proceedings I noticed a young man sipping wine in the shadows and queried his need to be there. He assured me he was the manager of the next act - an African funk band called Cool out Sun.  I took him at his word, and he did seem to be legitimate. His later requests for the location of, firstly, a rubbish bin and, secondly, a toilet, were more than testimony to his managerial status. If the induction program included identification of toilets for performers I missed that section, and could only suggest the facilities available to the public.

The final act was a funk dance band called the 7 Ups, who seemed to mellow the alcohol fueled crowd into a rhythmic sway. During onstage introductions of individual Seven Up members I thought I heard “Michael Schack on percussion”. Surely not the famous Belgian drummer sitting in? I queried the band excitedly at the conclusion of their show only to discover the percussionist was “Michael Sacks”!

Midway through the SevenUps performance a couple of young men bounded into the backstage area wanting to know what to do. Somewhat mystified, I eventually established that they did not have festival armbands and had somehow talked their way past the gate attendants by telling them they had a personal invitation from the singer of the band (whom they had met in the pub). They had been directed  backstage, so I escorted them to the main audience area of the Shebeen and told them they should be alright there if they remained quiet. It was only later I realized there was no singer in the SevenUps - a totally instrumental act.

My two final duties were (1) to take a photo of the 7 Ups from the stage (with the audience in the background) and (2) to give authoritative consent to an encore as it was the last act of the day. The encore over, chants of “one more song” rang out for a while before the dismantling of the drum kit sent a message the audience couldn’t ignore. 

Culture trip

A recent visit to Melbourne reminded me of the colourful characters that populate Victoria's capital city. Some current health concerns prompted me to make an appointment at at a medical centre located in Victoria Street,  Abbotsford. Prior to accessing the clinic I detoured to  make use of an adjacent public toilet. As I got nearer,  the screaming and groaning sounds emanating from the facility suggested caution, but necessity over-rode apprehension. As my eyes adjusted to the dark surroundings,  I observed an Asian man dressed in a white "Buddhist monk" type garment moaning at the urinal. When queries as to his well being went ignored I thought it wisest not to pursue the issue.

My consulting doctor issued a pathology slip, and recommended I get blood tests at a related clinic 800 metres further down Victoria Street. My journey on foot was punctuated by a man who had fallen off his bike on the footpath,  and a young woman crying and wandering aimlessly amongst fellow pedestrians. It was not until later that I recognised the proximity to the safe injecting room. Shaken, but undeterred,  I navigated my way to the pathology collection centre. The blood collector was a young woman who proceeded to tell me she was looking forward to ending her shift and that she had been unfairly blamed for a number of mistakes recently.

My diminished confidence in people attending to my needs was not restored when I called into an IT shop to ask some questions about Wi-Fi extenders and the like. The young sales attendant was of limited help,  and eventually told me he had not used a particular product and suggested I look it up on the Internet. 

The next day I attended a musical performance at a suburban hotel. My appreciation of the music was interrupted by a drunken man crashing into me as he weaved his way to the exit, seemingly oblivious to other patrons. Not long after I was tapped on the back by a man who said "Steve?". I told him I was not Steve and he asked "where is Steve?" After I assured him I didn't know Steve, let alone where he was,  he offered a self-assessment of his current condition -  "so f&**d up I don't know what's going on". Taking a side street short cut to my car an hour or so later I came upon two men staggering back to the pub -- you guessed it.

Driving out of Melbourne the next morning I noticed a travel advertisement for a "Culture trip to The most exciting cities in the world -- ".

2020

 

There is an internet site (https://www.thetoptens.com/worst-things-happened-2020/) that lists the ten worst things that happened in 2020. Predictably, the Coronavirus outbreak is listed as number one, and the Australian bushfires as number two, with another 8 covering a range of events. This essay examines things at micro level, and lists a more localised "10 worst things in 2020".

1. Anal fistula: Whilst "annus horribilis" is applicable to the year in general, "anus horribilis" is more relevant here. After 11 surgical interventions over 2 and a half years, colorectal surgeons at the Austin Hospital finally (July 2^nd) attempted what could have been a curative procedure (known as a LIFT - ligation of intersphincteric fistula tract). Given that the success rate after LIFT ranges from 40 to 95 %, with a recurrence rate of 6-28 %, optimism ensued. High hopes were dashed when a recurrence resulted in admission to the Warrnambool Hospital on July 26^th. To make matters worse, it coincided with a scheduled Collingwood-Eagles “home and away” game. The broadcast of the match was interrupted at half time by a nurse saying it was time to be wheeled to the operating theatre. As Collingwood's performance had been less than promising, the idea of being anaesthetized for the remainder of the game somehow seemed attractive. The pre-op prepping was interrupted by a flurry of activity signalled an incoming “trauma” -  meaning the  procedure would be delayed.  A return to the ward meant a confrontation with a 10 goal deficit.

2. Cottage:  The frequency of regional “damaging winds” warnings on the Vic emergency app had long produced an unwarranted complacency regarding such dangers, but a cognitive realignment was necessary in August. Damaging winds uprooted a large pine tree and landed it on the cottage. The destruction, although not complete, was sufficient to warrant a “non-repairable” assessment, and a recommendation for demolition. The insurance company asked curly questions like “was the building maintained in good condition?” and “was it an unoccupied dwelling?” but amazingly came to the party. 

Before

During

After

3. Painting job: To re-house the 30 years worth of acquisitions that had been stored in the cottage, a shipping container was purchased. To make it more aesthetically pleasing a search for a painter was initiated. After a couple of quotes a young man, who assured us he could start the following Monday, emerged as the preferred candidate. When he failed to appear as agreed, a message was sent to see if there was a problem. Eventually he replied saying he’d just got out of hospital after breaking his collarbone on his mountain bike and would be "out of action" for 2 months.

 

 4. Car: Using a car to transport goods from the cottage and garage to the container may have saved backs, but not wallets. Incident one involved wife backing into a pole and denting the passenger side rear panel. Fortunately there were not too many derogatory comments from husband. Incident 2, a few hours later,  involved husband backing into a parked trailer and denting the driver's side rear panel. Off to the panel beaters. 

5. Internet access: The New Year was ushered in with an NBN upgrade that somehow went wrong and removed all access. Initial assurances  that a technician would attend by January 4^th, were tempered by a follow up message postponing his arrival because “everyone is on holidays”. Still, a small irritation compared to what was to follow. 

6.Credit card: Credit card fraud reared its head in October when my bank transactions revealed a $300 Uber Eats purchase. Not even having an Uber eats account, and not being able to eat $300 worth of food, it seemed suspicious. The bank was good enough to take this on board and refund the money. 

7.Tape copying: After a long history of outdoor machinery misadventures,  an indoor activity seemed a safer option. A project to transfer some old VHS tapes to DVD turned sour after 4 screwed up tapes and 10 non readable discs.

8. Football: The ABC News headline says it all

 

9. Music career: Six decades of involvement in music stalled on St. Patrick’s day (March 17^th 2020) when Coronavirus restrictions closed entertainment venues down. 

Final gig at Mickey Bourke's

10. Computer “bargain”: It seemed too good to be true, but a Macbook pro retina 15 computer was advertised  online for $52, and couldn't be resisted. A disappointment  factor of 10 followed the delivery of a “hard shell case for a Macbook Pro Retina 15”.

Expectation

 

Actual

 

 

 

How Labour Day weekend changed Victoria’s virus fight

reproduced article written by Grant McArthur, Health Editor, Herald Sun,  Published Herald Sun, April 11th 2020

As Department of Health contact tracers painstakingly investigate each COVID-19 case back to its source to get one step ahead of where it will spread, recalling the Labour Day long weekend sends shivers down the spines of those charged with trying to control the virus.



Among the dozens of places visited by one of Victoria’s latest COVID-19 patients, one venue sticks out. Contact-tracing investigators interviewed others with confirmed coronavirus who reported being at the same place on the same night — but they attended a different function. As they compared the cases searching for a connection, no obvious source for the infections jumped out because no guests attended both events. Another COVID-19 patient emerged and recalled attending yet another gathering at the same venue days later, but further interviews struggled to nail down any person that all the sick had in common. Then, a check of the staff on duty threw up a match at all three events and a new possibility — does Melbourne have a super-spreader? “He worked in a hospitality venue. Initially we thought there was a cluster of cases who had all been to that venue on a particular night and we thought somebody in that place had it,” said Victoria’s Deputy Chief Health Officer, Dr Annaliese van Diemen. “A bit later there was another cluster from an event at the same place. “Now there are at least three clusters linked to that venue, and at least one of them has seeded off another.” Although the worker never had strong symptoms, tests confirmed he had COVID-19. “It is becoming clearer that some people are more infectious than others for reasons we are not certain of yet,” Dr van Diemen said. “We have seen it in SARS and MERS as well — this is a virus that has the capacity in some people, even though they are not hugely sick, to spread it to a lot of people.” With so much unknown about COVID-19, the work of Department of Health contact tracers to painstakingly investigate every case back to its source is the only way of getting one step ahead of where it may spread to. Each case may require hours of interviews, producing scores of leads which need analysis and cross-referencing. This can result in dozens of the patients’ loved ones, friends and colleagues ordered into self-isolation. Dr van Diemen knows getting a step ahead of each cluster is all that stops COVID-19 surging through Victoria. “At the moment we have 52 clusters — that is how many we are trying to keep track of,” she said. Until then, the disease that had devastated parts of China and was threatening Europe had barely made its presence felt in Victoria. “All of February was quite quiet, before the March long weekend which will be etched in all of our brains forever,” Dr van Diemen said. “That was case 11, which was just over a month ago — now we are past case 1000.” The turning point was the case of Toorak GP Dr Chris Higgins, who returned from the US before it was classified as a major coronavirus zone. Suddenly Victoria’s team of 30 contact-tracing specialists had to find and interview more than 70 of his patients, place each one in isolation and investigate whether they had spread the virus further. Thankfully, there were no further cases linked to Dr Higgins or the Toorak clinic. But as the weekend progressed, more cases flowed in from other US travellers, and every epidemiologist’s worst fears were realised. “That weekend we had a couple more cases dripping through and we thought, ‘OK, we are going to need a bit more space than what we have now’, so we expanded to this room on the Monday,” Dr van Diemen said. “By the end of that week we had already run out of room, so we had to expand to different locations.”

THE CAVALRY ARRIVES
It’s now just four weeks later, but the team of 30 has grown to 1000. They fill floors 1, 13, 14, 15, and 18 of the Department of Health tower at 50 Lonsdale St. Those who can’t fit there have taken over the offices of a nearby travel agency. Others who have contact with patients must work from home so they don’t risk infecting the COVID HQ. Of all the staff working hard when the Herald Sun visits, a dozen stand out. Wearing military fatigues, 12 members of the Australian Defence Force have been deployed to “floor-manage” the teams of nurses, doctors and public health bureaucrats. Next week the military presence is expected to multiply, but the sight of camouflage in the corridors barely raises an eyebrow now. The sheer number of patients and speed at which COVID-19 spreads means the investigators have had to change everything they do. In the case of common outbreaks such as measles, the flu or salmonella, a specialist investigator follows each case from start to finish. Since last month, COVID-19 investigations have become a production line of testing, interviewing, contact tracing, isolation measures and recovery. Less experienced nurses and others drafted in oversee the initial stages, and cases are passed up the line as they become more complex. “Because we now have so many cases — 50, 60, 80, 100 cases a day — we have had to separate the tasks that would normally be done,” Dr van Diemen said. “Every now and then, we sit down and say, ‘The stuff we’re doing in a 12 to 24-hour cycle would normally take months’.” The State Emergency Management Centre on level 1 looks like NASA’s mission control. Facing a wall of huge screens, rows of desks house the heads of each arm of Victoria’s COVID command who receive updates from investigators scattered on other floors, in hospitals or at coronavirus testing centres. At midnight, the team takes stock of the day’s new confirmed cases and prepares the data to be “cleaned” between 5-7am so the updated infection and death totals can be released to the public. Some days’ totals are much higher than others. The grim findings inform Chief Health Officer Brett Sutton’s recommendations, which in turn prompt the increasingly strict border and social distancing controls. Among the worst days for Victoria so far were March 14, 17 and 20, when investigators kept uncovering patterns of new cases linked to large gatherings. One cluster stemmed from a wedding attended by almost 300 guests and staff, including family members who flew in from overseas and are thought to have brought coronavirus with them. Eight guests became sick and tested positive after the celebration, while others were infected during post-wedding family visits. “Everyone at that wedding is being considered a close contact. They have all been isolated,” Dr van Diemen said. A guest flying to Australia for another wedding happened to share the flight with a person already suffering coronavirus, gaining the infection in time to attend the nuptials. Another cluster was born. Another two people became ill following a third wedding, though the timing of their illness suggests they caught coronavirus off another guest rather than introduced it. On March 25, weddings were limited to five people, while funerals were allowed just 10 mourners. As a COVID-19 tests comes back positive, the results are sent to the contact-tracing team and an investigation is launched. The first job is to uncover how they caught COVID-19. Once the source is established, investigators pore through everything the patient has done since, identify everyone they have been in contact with, and search for any possibility the virus may have spread further. The best-case scenario is that new cases can be linked to others already identified, and the people around the cluster are isolated to stop it running away. But when the painstaking analysis cannot uncover a clear source, the Victorian unit adopts the most conservative approach — closely monitoring locations the patient has visited for any further cases. Investigators can only let close contacts know where and when they came into contact with an infectious person, not who the carrier was.

But team leader Rebecca Shack [i.e. Schack] said 90 per cent had already been told by the carrier, and had been accepting of the news. “Some people aren’t too happy, some people are OK if they are friends, but there have been a few instances where people are incensed if they are not too close to them (the carrier),” she said. In the early days of COVID-19, international travellers wandering unrestricted through Victoria made tracing a nightmare, with dozens of leads and close contacts in each case. Travel bans and social distancing mean most cases now have only a few contacts of concern. Some have none. After seeing the chaos overseas, Ms Shack [i.e. Schack] said Victorians were now more understanding of the vital interview and isolation process. “There are still a few people who are angry, but the messages have been a bit nicer in the past couple of weeks,” she said. “But if you look at Australia’s numbers compared to other countries, they should think themselves lucky we are doing this.”
NEW EVIDENCE
Some patients have had very mild hay fever-like symptoms that disappear for days before re-emerging as COVID-19. Investigations into some clusters have now had to be reopened to trace back further than the days where it was previously accepted a person was infectious. “The trickiest bit at the moment is figuring out when they got sick,” Dr van Diemen said. “We have to be very careful about everybody maintaining physical distancing until we can work out more about this illness.” But the hard work is now paying off. With a drop in cases, the contact-tracing team this week celebrated a milestone — the median time from a patient’s onset of symptoms to home isolation was zero days. The less time an infected person is in the community, the fewer clusters contact tracers have to cut off. “The shutting down of international travel, the stay-at-home stuff, that is what has driven this down,” Dr van Diemen said. “We were on a trajectory with England two weeks ago. We were quadrupling every week. Now there is a palpable ‘maybe we can do this’ mood.”