How COVID-19 Silenced Me
I remember the moment I thought to myself, “Oh, no. This virus is different. I might actually be a little scared.”
I am not scared of much. There are moments when I feel fear, like when a person gives me the heeby jeebies, but they are short-lived. I remember a moment of fear when I jumped off the platform when zip lining, and when my dad told me he was going on hospice (I know, two totally different kinds of fear). But the big things, the things people say they fear, I generally don’t. For example, when I found a lump in my breast in 2008 my logical mind said, “80% of all breast lumps are benign.” I was in the 20%. Still wasn’t scared. I did what I always do in unknown situations: I learned what I thought I needed to know.
In 30 years of registered nursing, and four years before that doing nurse’s aide work, I have never been scared of any disease process that could infect me. In the late 1980’s, I took care of Tuberculosis patients wearing a simple mask. I’m not even sure the rooms had “negative pressure airflow” back in those days. When I was in nursing school, AIDS was the newest virus hitting the scene, and the patients were SUPER SICK. They were on heavy duty medications, had lots of secondary infections and complicated, multisystem disorders. I witnessed many AIDS related deaths in my young career.
Because of AIDS, Standard Precautions were born, meaning, before AIDS, gloves were available, but I had to walk all the way down the hall to the nursing station to get them. It was expected that we only wear gloves when dealing with visible soil, which means as a nurse’s aid, we wore them to clean up poop, but not pee. Wrap your mind around that.
AIDS scared people. I remember a time when the news was reporting that you could get AIDS from touching someone, from using the same toilet, and from using the same dishes. In hindsight, I believe the fear was centered around the unknown, especially as I see the cultural changes in the wake of COVID-19. The Swine (H1N1) flu was the next one I remember that impacted us as a culture, but it was a blip on the radar compared to AIDS and COVID. The patients I took care of with H1N1 were just as sick and several died, but for whatever reason, I didn’t feel the pressure from that one the way I did AIDS.
I do remember, in detail, how I learned about H1N1, however. In 2009, on a “post cancer treatment” celebratory cruise to Mexico, my husband and I were sequestered on the ship with no access to the beautiful beaches. (That’s a whole different blog post!) It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the ocean was inviting, and I was ready to partake. On the intercom overhead, as we stood outside enjoying the morning sun, we hear the Italian Captain say, “Good morning, ladies and gentleman, this is your CAPITAN speaking! Because of the SWEENAY flu, the Mexican authorities are not allowing us to disembark…” I was surprised! Having lived through TB and AIDS, I wondered if this drastic measure was necessary! Still wasn’t scared.
But COVID-19 is different.
It’s highly contagious. All you have to do is exist to be a candidate, as evidenced by the number of people with no comorbidities who have contracted it.
It can TAKE YOU OUT!! Permanently. I don’t know exactly how many deaths we’ve had at our hospital as a result, but I do know it’s a whole lot more than any other period in time that I can remember. By far. Although most people have a mild case, the ones that don’t, have a LONG and ARDUOUS road back, if they come back at all. I mean, LONG. And I mean DIFFICULT. We don’t even know what kind of life they go back to. Those are studies for the next phase of COVID-19.
There are other ripples that this thing creates, as well. For example, how do we healthcare providers take care of patients who are infected with COVID while keeping those who aren’t infected safe? How do we keep ourselves safe? When people are afraid to leave their homes but need medical care, what bad things happen when they don’t get the care they need?
Since my full time job is in the only hospital in our city, I have seen, up close and personal, what COVID looks like when it’s bad. I am fortunate that I’ve been able to go to work, in spite of the challenges we have faced in dealing with this unknown organism. And even though I am so glad I get to go to work, the work has changed, has become more intense, and causes me more stress than it used to. Even so, I wonder what people who aren’t “essential workers” are facing. How do they pay their bills? How do they cope with a life without work? I mean, in spite of the changes and stressors, there are people there who I can interact with, vent my frustrations to, and who help me to feel a little more normal. Being isolated from people isn’t healthy.
So how do we come together without infecting one another? Until I started wearing a mask at work and out in places where other people go, I didn’t realize how many droplets come out of me when I talk, sneeze, cough, and even breathe. Sometimes, I am so enthusiastic in my desire to tell a story that even more spit comes out! If I’m an asymptomatic carrier, how many people will I infect if I am not careful? How many could infect me?
Furthermore, how do we find a way to be productive and content in a world in which it isn’t safe to go to a concert, a sporting event, a County Fair, or a restaurant? These things keep our economy strong, and provide a way for people to decompress from the stresses of everyday life. At what point do we throw caution to the wind and just live our lives?
Now that we’ve been dealing with the COVID beast for most of the year, I am not less scared. I am increasingly anxious, in general, about what other struggles we face ahead. What does life look like now that it’s out there? What unknown sequelae will it leave behind? I know we’ll get through it, and that life won’t look quite the same, but I have been silent long enough.
Thanks for listening!
