… And that’s a wrap! A global pandemic has been defeated in just a few months, America is back to normal. They say it’s finished so it must be, right?
Yes, the Covid disaster tent in our hospital – that giant eyesore – is packed up and stored for the summer. The waiting rooms are filling up more regularly. As more and more departments open up, eerily quiet halls have a buzz about them again. And yet coronavirus is everywhere, and I’m starting to wonder if it will ever leave.
The safety protocols that emerged at the entrance of the hospital at the start of the pandemic remain in place: questions, masks, temperature, have a good shift, next.
The gift shop has closed and looks like a giant empty terrarium. Everything is gone but a banner that reads: “We’re in this together.”
Our pre-shift huddles are still dominated by reports of mask shortages. We’re told that the government is coming to hospitals to stockpile masks and Covid swabs that aren’t being used. (Which government? Supervisors have no idea.) We’re getting memos that if we purchase our own respirator masks in bulk of 100 orders or more we can get discounted prices. It will remain on us to keep ourselves safe.
On the floor, we’re back to filling hallway beds to keep the waiting room from swelling. The shifts are flying by now with all the work. I can’t help but wonder how many of the patients we’re seeing suffered through illness just to stay away from the hospital.
California didn’t see the numbers of coronavirus deaths initially predicted. Yet given the virus’s insidious nature and our failure to completely track its spread, we may one day still arrive there. I’m worried about the confusion being peddled on how to keep safe from this pandemic – scientific or not. I worry we’ll let our guard down and get sloppy. Regardless, I’ll be walking through these doors and nurse as many people as I can back to health.
