T. S. Eliot wrote, “April is the cruelest month.” Indeed, it
has been a cruel month for billions of people around the world who have had
covid-19, cared for a loved one who had it, lost a loved one to it, work with
people who have it, or are staying home to avoid getting it. Unfortunately, the
rest of the month promises more of the same, especially in developing areas
where handwashing and social distancing are reserved for the privileged. Currently,
nearly 1.8 million people have been diagnosed with covid-19 including nearly
530,000 from the US (more than triple any other country; New York state’s 180,000
people diagnosed is itself more than any other country). Worldwide, almost 110,000
people have died. Oregon has reported 1,447 patients and 51 deaths which not
only suggests that our state is flattening the curve but projects to be one of
the lowest population-adjusted death rates in the country.
The biostatistician who mentored me when I started doing
health services research helped me appreciate the lives behind the numbers.
Each covid-19 death represents a person who left behind family, friends,
neighbors, and colleagues whose lives are also altered with that person’s loss;
many of these people died alone or in the company of only the health care team.
Each person who was hospitalized for covid-19 and was able to return home was
ill enough to require hospitalization, isolated from family and friends, presumably
missed work, and may have financial worries (why don’t Americans understand
that healthcare is a human right?). All hospitalized patients, regardless of
outcome, received care from a team of doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists,
pharmacists, food services, environmental services (aka housekeepers) and
others who put themselves at risk of getting covid. Any of these patients, as
well as those with mild symptoms, may have transmitted covid with loved ones or
strangers.
It’s Saturday, a day shy of 4 weeks since I called in to
work sick. This past week I worked 4 evening shifts at the command center, arriving
about 2 and leaving after 10. Work itself is a mixture of update meetings, reporting
each day’s progress, preparing for the next day, quiet intervals when I’m able
to do parts of my “day job”, and an occasional flurry of phone calls during
which it would be helpful to clone myself to find answers to a caller’s questions
or address their issues. Once again, I am acquiring eclectic knowledge through
work: information about the hospital’s pneumatic tube system, idiosyncrasies about
the medical masks, the current visitor policy including exceptions, the hospital
donation acceptance process, and various other things.
I like not waking up to an alarm, but even though I’ve
been going to bed after 1, I’m still waking up before 8 so I’m a bit sleep
deprived and my body is rather confused about when mealtimes should be. I’m guessing
that by the time my body is used to the new schedule, which I will continue on
weeknights through May 1, it will be time to transition back to day shift – a fine
first world problem to have. Since I leave the house as an “essential employee”
I am not as stir crazy as many of my friends who are working form home or laid
off. I’ve been trying to exercise in the mornings before work – either riding my
exercise bike walking up the hill to the nearby cemeteries which have lots of
topography and impressive views along with plenty of things to look at. I was talking
with Sister Lynda, a hospital colleague, about the views but didn’t have a good
picture to share so I remedied that yesterday; now I’m thinking that perhaps I
will give myself a photography “theme” for each walk – there’s the amazing
views, plant life, birds, mosses & lichens, and that’s before considering
the names and history of the gravestones. I smile each time I press the walk
signal button at the one traffic light on the route because I’ve been using the
bottom of my shoe so as not to touch something someone else has touched.
Every time I’ve had major stress in my life, including everything
related to covid-19, I’m reminded how fortunate I am to have so many people in
my life who make me smile. Thank you, and I hope I can give you reasons to
smile, too.
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