I said to someone recently that I am slowly beginning to know what it feels like to be a fireman going into a burning building, while telling everyone else to stay out. As the number of cases of COVID rise, the fire is beginning to burn hotter.
In a couple of days I start back on a long string of shifts. The time away from the emergency department has been good in some ways: rest, time with family, time to slow down. In other ways it’s been bad. Far too much time to watch the news about what is happening in Italy and NYC and other places. Too much time listening to podcasts and reading articles and emails on how to handle the the mask shortage, what novel treatment may or may not work, strategies of setting up tents and “clean” hospitals.
As an emergency physician I am wired to “get it done.” I’m not all that good at developing plans or perseverating over plans. But when the proverbial poo hits the fan, I’m on. The anticipation of the potential chaos to come has been mentally and emotionally exhausting. Listening to and watching the fire rage in other parts of the country and world is overwhelming at times. I hear myself at times screaming on the inside, “Let’s just get it on, already!” I’m tired of planning for the battle and ready to just get in it.
Or am I? What am I saying? I said in my last post that this was a battle we are not fully prepared for….. and we still aren’t. This battle, no matter how hard I and my colleagues on the front lines fight, is going to bring a lot of suffering and a lot of death. We are already seeing that in other places. At the time of this writing, there are already over 500 people dead in the United States (over 20,000 world wide). We are most certainly still on the upside of the curve. These are not just numbers they are mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. Yes, hundreds of people die every day. Yes, every year seasonal flu claims an estimated 34,000 lives in the United States and hundreds of thousands worldwide. But that occurs over a whole flu season. We are only weeks into COVID wreaking havoc in the US and we know we are still on the upside of the exponential curve of the spread. We also know that COVID is more lethal than the seasonal flu. The number of deaths is going to rise, and rise fast.
I see death frequently in my job. It’s part of it. There are times when I find myself inhumanely immune to the sting of it. But somehow this feels different, perhaps because of the anticipated rapid rate at which they may occur. The community I live in has a significant number of retired (read elderly) people in it. Large numbers of those that are in the “at risk” category.
How many will we see die? How many of them can we save? How many of them can we try to save before the PPE, the rooms, and the ventilators run out? Will we at some point be faced with the decision to ration resources? If so, how in the world do we go about making such decisions?
The questions and thinking never stop. And full disclosure, there are other more selfish questions:
If we are out of appropriate PPE would I still go in a room to try and save a life?
If I become infected what will separating myself from my wife and kids look like?
If I was given the offer to sit this COVID fight out, would I accept it?
I would love answers to some of these questions. I’d be all for them stopping altogether. I need a place to turn. A way to deal. A way to cope. Now, and most certainly when it’s finally “on.”
I choose to turn to prayer.
But what do I pray?
Do I pray for it to be over?
Do I pray to be sustained thru it?
Do I pray for protection?
Do I pray for no one to die?
Do I pray for answers to why this is even happening?
Are there right ways or wrong ways to pray about the COVID pandemic?
Is there even a role for prayer? I think there is. Why?
Because God is.
Part three to come….
