COVID-19 Day 28

I am currently working at a field hospital in southern Florida. The current task is screening people to decide whether they need testing though we are unable to actually test them at this time. (Yes, I see the insanity of this arrangement.) Some of us feel like we might just be holding space here for now until this facility is converted into an overflow hospital much like the ones currently needed in New York City.

On March 1, 2020, Florida saw its first official case of COVID-19. We were the third state in the country to record one. Twenty-seven days later we are starting to see increasing numbers of it in our emergency departments, and we brace for the heart breaking weeks to come. I usually write about non-medical topics, but quite frankly, COVID-19 rules my world right now, and I will likely be writing about its effects on me for many, if not all, of the posts in the coming weeks.

I have been debating for a while now whether or not I would continue to live at home with my husband and dog once this pandemic reaches our area in earnest. If I don’t go home, my hunny has virtually no exposure outside of the grocery, and hopefully will be safe from it. Since I almost certainly will get it at some point, if I go home, he will have little hope of not becoming infected. Since he is under fifty and healthy otherwise, in all likelihood he would be fine, but I’m not sure I like the 5% chance that he would end up on a ventilator. Right now we have so little information on how this virus is behaving that making an informed decision is difficult, and I am rarely rational when I am considering risk to the man who holds my heart.

I have been reading a lot of things—Facebook posts, op-ed articles, memes, etc.—about healthcare workers and this pandemic. In some, nurses are calling for hazard pay. In others, people, including other nurses, are criticizing the ones asking for hazard pay because they say that this type of thing is what those of us in health professions signed up for. I can see both arguments, but I fall somewhere in the middle.

Taking care of people, come what may, is my job. I take pride in it. I don’t think I deserve hazard pay, even for working with COVID-19 patients. But I did not sign up for this. I didn’t sign up for working without proper protective equipment, and I didn’t sign up for the fairly high possibility of bringing home a virus that could kill my husband. I started to say that I didn’t sign up for the possibility of choosing who gets life saving treatment and who doesn’t except in the event of a disaster. Then I realized this is a disaster. In truth, the only reason I’m so bent about the PPE (personal protective equipment) is that the lack of it increases my risk of bringing SARS-CoV-2 home to my husband. I’m not worried about getting sick. I’m worried about making him sick. I’m worried about making others sick which I could do without even knowing because we are contagious before we get symptoms. I’m worried about all the not knowing.

So I’m sitting here debating whether or not I will go home when this stretch of work is complete. Or will I just decontaminate then go home to pack some more things and leave my husband and my dog behind indefinitely until I can have a reasonable expectation of their safety? They are my source of solace and energy. They are what restores me when the world has taken all I have to give. How do I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done without them? How do I do it and risk them?

I hope I am blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I hope my area will be spared. In my heart, though, I know these hopes are futile. Even as I type this post, my colleague has sent me a text to let me know that his shift today was primarily respiratory patients suspicious for COVID. Thanks to our stellar government response, we have no tests to confirm that diagnosis until basically the patient is discharged home for fourteen days of quarantine or has decompensated to the point of confirmation, but I promised myself I wouldn’t get political.

If you’ve made it to the end of this ramble, thank you. Keep all of us on the front lines in your thoughts and prayers. If you get a chance, post happy things on Facebook or Instagram. Right now we need all the happy we can get.

Also, remember, STAY HOME! By slowing the spread of this illness, you increase our ability to care for it.

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