April 14, 2020

“Three rigs are backed into the bay. Two more come screaming up the ambulance run. Most nights I would think that there must be an accident on the expressway, perhaps at the interchange. But tonight I'm almost certain these ambulances are loaded with COVID-19 patients.

I work the graveyard shift, 8-8. And I had my first encounter with a patient suspected of having the dangerous coronavirus before the tests were available. This person didn't fit the profile...young, athletic, non-smoker. And yet the lungs are failing. I'm tasked with filling an automated dispensing machine in the ER; something I do countless times each shift. I notice this patient without having to be told. He is drawing a crowd.

The respiratory therapists are donning extra PPE as are the nurses and doctors. Should I have a mask? Gloves? I finish quickly and head back to the pharmacy. I have to pass by the family. It looks like a mom and maybe a girlfriend and a couple of brothers. Two of them will be our patients before the month is out. This is the last day the family is allowed to accompany patients into the hospital. Starting the next day, families wait in their cars with cell phones to their ears and their necks craning to look in the windows for a glimpse of their loved one.

I've been following news of the pandemic for many weeks. I think I know a lot about it. Knowledge keeps me from panicking and yet I feel unsafe in my homemade mask. I'm certain that we have had COVID-19 patients for several days or more. No tests available. No precautions taken.

I worry that my nerves will fail me. But once I see my first official confirmed patient, that feeling goes. I have a skill that I've honed for more than thirty years. And I can help these patients with their clogged lungs and high fevers that are dependent on machines for breath. I make paralytic agents in batches and sedation IVs until I run out of drugs. I'm not frightened but I take special care with my PPE and hand washing. I now clean my eyeglasses, change my clothes on the porch, and wash my hair as soon as I get home. I eat oranges two at a time.

Weeks pass. My coworkers catch it. I remain healthy. I wonder when the contagion will be over. And I wonder when things will return to normal...whatever that may be.”

-Clare D. 

Flint, Michigan

 

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