The day really begins late in the night as my phone rings indicating there is a call from the hospital. This time the fear of COVID-19 is real and the person is admitted to the “COVID” floor.
We are fortunate to have a floor of almost completely unused rooms that were vacated a few years back when the new wing of the hospital was built. I know that there are eventual plans for these rooms but for now it is being put to good use for the pandemic. It would be great if the affected patients could always be put there but I fear it won’t be enough before too long. Procedures are now in place so that anyone suspected to have the COVID-19 virus will be taken care of by a dedicated team on a dedicated floor thus minimizing exposure to other staff and patients.
My patient had family members who had traveled to Italy and they had recently been to visit them. The patient presented with severe abdominal pain and now needs surgery to take out the gall bladder. Thankfully, testing for the virus turned out to be negative. Patients still get ill with all the problems that we had before but now everything lays on a blanket of pandemic fear.
I am grateful to work in a hospital with proactive leaders who are not waiting to react but preparing the best we can. My partner is the Chief Medical Officer for the hospital and is tirelessly working with the hospital committee to organize and prepare. He has spoken to all of us internists who could step up and help if the demand gets as high as we think. The response has been heartening. Repeatedly the answer has been, “sure, whatever it takes.”
I remember my own moment when I realized what I would do if faced with a dangerous exposure. It was about two summers ago when the Ebola virus was feared to come from Africa to our lands. Patients were being screened as to their travel and one of mine came with the report that he had just come from Sierra Leon, Africa. This was one of the “hotspots.” I had him stay in the hall. I donned a mask, swallowed hard and went to talk to him. It turns out he had gone to Sri Lanka, not Sierra Leon and it was a false alarm. I knew from that experience, though, that I would be willing to care for my patients regardless of the risk.
I stand proud with so many others who may be looked over who are equally courageous. I am first and foremost grateful for my family who are willing to still take me home at night. My staff at the office have not blinked twice about doing what is needed. As I left the office today, I passed the cleaning crew getting ready to wipe everything down for the next day. I am sure that many of them do not earn large wages and yet they are crucial to our effort.
Ultimately it is faith that keeps us going. Faith that this too will pass. Faith that the sun will shine again. Faith that like the spring that is starting to sprout and bud around us, human life will conquer. It is my faith that there is a God who knows and loves each one of us. I do not believe he is vengeful and sending a scourge to punish his children. Some things just happen in this life we call mortality. I do know that if we reach out to him he can comfort anyone of us.
Yesterday I posted on Facebook a simple song sung by faith filled missionaries who serve here in St. Louis. Tonight a friend told me of the struggle one of their children is having with anxiety. The child has not been able to sleep well and is panicked about the safety and health of the parents. My friend brought their family together and played this song for them. Last night brought comfort and peace where before there was despair. The child was able to feel calm and sleep through the night. That is the power of love and faith.
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