Drifting Along the River’s Current
“What can I do to help you all right now?”
After pausing for a few seconds, the palliative care nurse turned toward me.
“Our guest in Room 5 is active, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with his children.”
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Put to the Test
I’m a primary-care doctor in Washington state. I was recently confronted with a ticklish and painful situation.
Here are the facts and the sequence of events:
On a recent Wednesday morning, I saw a forty-five-year-old woman in my office for an earache. She told me that a member of her church had been diagnosed with coronavirus, and that many schools in the area were being closed because of possible exposure. Later that day I started to receive emails and phone calls from families in my practice, giving more information about this situation.
A Bad Dream
Last night I dreamt that New York City was gone–that it had disappeared into a billowy horizon. I was walking on some unknown highway and looked over my shoulder and saw nothing but grey-white layers of clouds. No blue sky. No brown earth. No Big Apple. A real nightmare.
I woke to huge snowflakes dropping from the sky. My family is safe. But I am sad and scared. I can taste the fear, and I don’t like it.
Corona, Contagion, Confusion
My husband Joel, age seventy-six, has tested positive for the virus–the new big C.
Joel developed a low-grade fever on March 1. We were in San Francisco, visiting our ten-month-old grandson and his parents. They’d all had bad colds, and our grandson was still coughing and producing large amounts of sticky nasal stuff, so I wasn’t surprised when Joel got sick. (I figured that I eventually would, too.)
We went to a local urgent-care clinic. A competent physician assistant examined Joel, then assured us that he didn’t have the coronavirus: His vital signs were all good, and except for a 100.5° fever, he had no symptoms.
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A Poem a Day for Good Health
On Leap Day this year, I was at the beautiful Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park in Michigan. In the gift shop, I saw a booklet of 30 postcards featuring photos of the park–nature scenes, sculptures, the Japanese Garden, etc. It gave me an idea for a writing project during the month of March. I bought the booklet and every day this month I am writing a short poem reflective of the photograph on the postcard, working my way through the booklet. I then choose a stamp that fits the scene and put the postcard in the mail to myself.
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The Pandemic – A Medical Student’s Perspective
My mom wants to hear my opinion on public transportation. Can she take the subway to see her dentist this week, or should she take a cab? I say to her, “Take a cab if you can afford it, and if you take the subway try getting on a less crowded car. Practice social distancing, if possible.”
Mom asks me because I’m her medical student in the family. The truth is, I don’t have any more information to offer than what’s already found on the CDC’s website. I don’t have much to add, really, unless…
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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.
Social Distancing To and From China
On recent flights to and from China, I had two different experiences of isolation and contagion.
Flying over, I was upgraded to business class. Cocooned in our own little fully reclining enclaves, my isolated, entitled fellow travelers and I interacted only with the attendants solicitously serving us. It was self-indulgently pleasant, and with the help of melatonin and a hearty meal, I got seven hours of sleep and arrived feeling like the world should continue to cater to me.
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When Babies Died
I arrived at Boston City Hospital in 1986 as the new 38-year-old chief of child neurology. I soon realized that many of our tiny patients were dying from AIDS. The pediatric cases were the victims of “vertical transmission,” due to their mothers’ being infected. There was no treatment. Zidovidine (AZT) was not yet approved for pregnant women or their babies. So the mothers transmitted the virus to their babies and the babies got sick and died.
Do I Stay or Do I Go?
Looking out at a metal awning, I sit with my view from this hotel room in North Carolina. Do I stay or do I go?
Three years ago, my older son, who was immune naïve and compromised, got a probable viral pneumonia which progressed much like we know coronavirus does into a heightened inflammatory response. He was intubated on day five and died on day sixteen. I know what this looks like.
My younger son has been deployed to Afghanistan for nine months. He was due back to North Carolina yesterday.
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