Jessica Faraci

I’m. So. Tired.

Tired doesn’t even begin to describe it, actually. Exhaustion. Weariness. A deep, gut-wrenching physical ache that fogs my brain and fills my body with despair. I can feel the ache arise somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach, worm its way past my heart, and drive deep into my forehead. I close my eyes and imagine the bliss of sleep.

I’m so tired.

Denial

I first heard about COVID-19 in January. My husband, a fellow physician, read to me about it from a news article. On the third day in a row as he read aloud about the epidemic, I asked him to stop. It was hard to appreciate his daily updates when all I wanted to do was throw up due to the severe morning sickness I was experiencing in my first trimester of pregnancy. After all, it was just in China, right? Too far away to worry about.

SunsetonLD

Sunset on Labor and Delivery

“The delivery of a human being is a truly precious miracle–however, labor can be a long and tedious process. Patients and caregivers alike, during this often difficult journey, will frequent the labor lounge of our labor-and-delivery ward and soak in these stunning views. Sunset was always my favorite, and gave me that final burst of energy while going into a long night of laboring with my patients.”

Phototherapy

Jessica Faraci

About the artist:

Jessica Faraci is a family physician who treasures her family, her patients, writing and creativity. She had identical twin girls while in residency. 

About the artwork:

“Caring for newborns and giving phototherapy was just part of my job as a physician. But when it was my own little girl–suffering from jaundice as a result of twin transfusion and polycythemia (an excess of red blood cells)–phototherapy took on a whole new meaning. This is what intensive phototherapy in a neonatal isolette looks like. It was terrifying to see as a parent.” 

 

Visuals editor:

Sara Kohrt

I Give

 
I give her my sympathy: my self-control and dignity as I listen to her story of how her ear has been hurting for one day and she just can’t take the pain anymore.

I give him my patience: my knowledge and my experience as I put together the puzzle of his complex, nine-month hospital admission in a fifteen-minute acute visit.

I give her my compassion: as I politely but firmly tell her that I am not willing to prescribe chronic opiates for her fibromyalgia and depression.

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