Coronavirus. A meaningless word a few months ago and now a feared word flooding the media with concern of where it will lead. A pandemic that has spread throughout the world in a matter of a couple of months, killing thousands and not being selective of who it infects.One Saturday morning, I woke up. Vague symptoms. My asthma was acting up more than usual—had to use my albuterol inhaler a few times, temperature 99.6 consistently with tylenol, muscle aches and headaches. Vague symptoms but symptoms that prompted a call. I went to med-check, which that morning the rules were changed and they were unable to test for any diagnosis including flu, respiratory illness, or coronavirus. I was given a mask and instructed to go to the parking lot of the ER where I was escorted into an isolation room. Staff came in with gowns, masks, gloves to further ask about my symptoms. I sat for hours undergoing labwork, chest x-rays, flu and respiratory panel testing. I was told if all the initial tests return negative, it would be reflexed for coronavirus. Well, those returned negative. I was quarantined for 7 days at home. 7 days I sat home and wondered what my result would be. 7 days I learned how to find my hobbies I enjoyed again—blogging, painting, reading devotionals, meditating, finding myself that I had lost through the business of the world. Sure, there were days I felt lonely—I am an extravert so it drove me crazy not doing something, not being busy and working, getting out and seeing my friends, going out to eat, to breweries, to the movies, etc.I watched movies, documentaries, caught up on shows I was told to “binge” but was too busy to watch previously. My husband I put a puzzle together. I worried about my patients and not being able to be at the office or hospital that week. I was told it would be 4 days. 4 days came and went. By the 7th day, my result appeared on MyChart—NEGATIVE. Thank God. A sense of relief overwhelmed but followed by a sense of worry. Now I will be going back to work and possibly be exposed. If I felt this bad this past week, then what if I truly get it; how will it affect me and how will I feel?The tests have now moved to more results- 24 to 48 hours. Many I have known have had the vague symptoms and gotten tested, most negative some positive. The invasive nasal swab they received did not compare of the superficial swab I received in my nose, in which I found out there were multiple previous false negatives. Did I have it or not? Was I a false negative? Well, it doesn't matter at this point. The only thing I knew was I felt like crap and had kept myself away from everyone during that time.I was on call that Monday. The night before I received an email in the case we need ot be pulled to other areas, to volunteer what area I would be comfortable working in. New York is oversaturated with patients and ICU beds are maxed out and the talk of possible rationing for ventilators in the future. My Facebook is flooded with wonderful volunteers offering to sew masks due to the shortage in areas. I go to sleep wondering what the hospital will be like since I had been out for a week. I get up early that next morning drive to work. The streets are dark.As I walk in that Monday morning, the hospital was desolate.
Appointments have been moved out further and telehealth appointments scheduled to prevent further possible exposure to patients and healthcare providers—only essential visits. As I walked into the hospital, I was stopped and my temperature was taken. I didn't have to wear a mask. We were warned of the further possibilities of what might ensue and further precautions and restrictions that may be taken in the future. Fastforward to later that week when I'm again on call. I wake up. I drive to the hospital and the roads are empty. A sign flashes- “mandatory state order, stay home, essential travel only.” Masks are required to wear on the unit and everywhere.
Strict screening once again every time I enter the hospital. This is surreal. Nothing I have ever seen in the medical field or in my lifetime. I am afraid of what might be in the future—it hasn't even peaked yet. Operating rooms, stadiums, large arenas are being made into areas in preparation for ICUs for potential patients. Although I thought I would never see this in my lifetime, I am amazed to see how many people have played a role in pitching in, donating, and providing for all of those playing working to try to combat this virus. I am thankful to be part of such a great community that strives to continue to provide for others despite physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. Depression and anxiety rates have risen. Not only have patients, but doctors, nurses, and other healthcare workers have died doing what they took an oath to do, care and treat others. I have not seen the extent of the virus' effects on patients in real time but only on TV and explanations from my friends that work in the midst of it—in the ER, ICU, overflowing ORs—and I hope I don't have to. I'm thankful for those that work behind the scenes and on the frontlines to provide care to those. As my father always said to me growing up, this too shall pass. But I'm hoping it will pass sooner rather than later; and the only way for that to happen is for us to come together as a community and work together, isolate, practice social distancing, stay at home, practice simple hand hygiene. I'm hoping those working on a vaccination or remedy to help expedite the recovery process and improve outcomes will work together and not be for own individual monetary gain. I pray that our healthcare providers aren't placed in situations in which they do not have appropriate PPE to protect those that are needing protection (although I am aware this has already occurred in places). I pray for our nation. I pray for those providing care. I pray for those needing care. I pray for space and resources. And most of all, I pray this passes without catastrophic consequences. In the meantime, I will wait. I will go to work with my new schedule—1 week on and two weeks off working from home—combing all our resources to work together. I have never seen teamwork be so apparent as in this time of crisis. I will continue to Facetime my parents regularly, not knowing when I will see them again. I will have “wine nights” with my girls on zoom. I will try to make life as routine as it can be amongst the most unpredictable circumstances.
Much love,
Dr. Riley
