Coronavirus diary, Wednesday 27 May

Death has been one of the main features in the popular press since the mid nineteenth century. It interested readers and sold papers. People enjoyed, if that is the word, reading of wars and disasters. Today it has become almost an obsession with the media.

Coronavirus is dominating the news. For three months we have had stories of deaths, daily statistics and graphs, reports of the suffering and loss of life around the world.

The most prolific presenter of sad news is BBC television. Its coverage of every possible aspect and angle of the global disaster is relentless and, I think, often heartless. 

As a reporter I wrote innumerable stories of death, from calling at homes for details from families to accidents and murders, yet I am shocked by the lack of sensitivity shown these days. 

Distressed relatives crying on camera, the repeated showing of galleries of mini photographs of scores, hundreds, of victims. BBC corespondents and cameras have frequently gone into hospitals to illustrate the courage, skill and dedication of the doctors and nurses on the often quoted front line. Often useful and often reassuring. But this week I think they have gone too far. Their health editor has been recording in intimate detail work in an intensive care unit. The emphasis was on death. 

It was almost surreal with nursing staff in full equipment tending  desperately ill, dying patients. Anticipating the probable reaction, the BBC issued an advance warning of upsetting scenes as with television thrillers. but this was not entertainment. To me it was horrific, frightening. It certainly was not news.

As an old and vulnerable care home resident I thought of myself in that ward in those circumstances and was distressed. I think my family would feel the same.