Pandemic Parables: The Thaw Begins
Pandemic Parables: The Thaw Begins
In the words of the Beatles song “...it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter” at the hospital in Frederick, Maryland where I am working as a Resident Chaplain until the end of August. The number of virus patients within the hospital remains steady, and we are prepared for another surge if that comes after the State reopens, although we fervently pray it does not. There are signs, though, that the thaw has already very slowly started.
From tomorrow at 5pm - Friday, May 15th, Governor Hogan has lifted the stay at home order in Maryland enabling many people to go back to work. However to ensure safety within the hospital our wonderful CEO has said that hospital employees working from home will not return for a month and then the situation will be reassessed.
However a few familiar faces are beginning to reappear. Two social workers who interact closely with the patients are back.
“It’s good being here again” said one. “But I feel as though I’m on a huge curve to relearn my job. Everything has changed.”
And everything has indeed changed. Technology has inserted itself dramatically into all of our lives. On line conferences, supervisor meetings, and patient-sitting are now everyday occurrences. Those of us who have been here the whole time have adapted to it gradually.
My Social Worker friend plunged in headlong.
My Social Worker friend plunged in headlong.
“I see a lot of the Covid-19 patients” the Social Worker continued. And that’s it, I can’t see them. Everything is done by phone or video. It’s exhausting getting back up to speed.”
Another familiar face was the nurse receptionist in Same Day Surgery, which is located in the front foyer.
“How wonderful to have you back!” I said. "It hasn’t been the same without your cheery face. Have you been at home?”
“No” she said with a grimace. I’ve been on nights. Three twelve hour shifts. I’ve never done nights before and it’s hard to start something new like that when you are forty nine. It was grueling. It’s good to be back.”
I motioned to the scattering of people in the large, comfortable entrance space.
“It feels so wonderful to have people here. It’s been deserted for weeks because there have been no elective surgeries. I know the Governor has just lifted that ban. This is the first day isn’t it?”
“That’s right.” She said. “We have eight in surgery today, and each person is allowed one person to be with them. We are starting slowly. Normally we have about forty.”
Later, in the Emergency Department, I discovered that there was a new protocol for patients with a disability.
Everyone coming to the ED can have one person with them. However if the patient is admitted their companion has to leave as visitors are not allowed on the floors, with a few exceptions including an end of life situation.
Now, if a patient with a disability is admitted, the person who accompanied them to the hospital is allowed to remain by their side throughout their stay.
The floors have been devoid of visitors for weeks.
The thaw is slowly starting.
But with the changes come, well, changes.
With more elective surgeries there will be an increase of patients in the hospital.
I was told by a knowledgeable nurse friend that the dedicated Isolation Wing on the third floor - my floor - will probably be disbanded at the beginning of June. The virus patients will be moved to another part of the floor - my nurse friend’s section - and they will be put in isolation rooms amid the general population.
“What is now the Isolation Wing usually specializes in helping people recover from orthopedic surgery.” My nurse friend explained. “With the increase in elective surgeries their expertise is really needed.
I get it, but I don’t like it.”
Later that morning, on my daily visit to the Isolation Wing, I talked to the wonderful Nurse Manager there who said that they would likely be returning to their normal orthopedic workload around June 1st.
She told me that this date - indeed the plan - was still fluid.
“How do you feel about that?” I asked.
“ I see why there is a need” she said thoughtfully. But I really wanted to finish what we’d started here.”
I sensed her sadness.
“Will it be a relief to no longer be in isolation dealing with Covid positive patients exclusively” I asked.
“I thought it would be.” She said. “but surprisingly, no.”
I thought of something else.
“How will your team go from being under the stress and tension of being sequestered away here on the Isolation Wing one day, to being an open unit the next? Won’t it be like divers coming up from the depths. If they don’t do it in stages won’t they get the bends?”
“That’s right.” She replied. “It will really hard. I’m going to have to give a transition plan some real thought,”
And she will. This is a leader who truly loves and cares for her staff, and she is admired, respected, and loved in return.
The picture of the diver having to come up to the surface slowly kept returning to my mind. I saw that it was not just true for the staff of the Isolation Unit, but, to a perhaps lesser extent, everyone who was working in the hospital from the CEO to the janitorial staff.
We have all been living in a sealed off world filled with tension, rapid changes, and great uncertainty.
Even though we have longed for a return to normalcy it might take us all more time than we anticipate to emotionally recover from these Coronavirus encrusted days.
I know that is true for me.
In many ways I feel out of sync with my friends who have been sheltering at home. It feels as though when life once again has liberty they will burst out of their doors refreshed and raring to go, and I will crawl back through mine, collapse into bed and sleep.
But perhaps we are all closer than I think and the picture of that diver is true for all of us, wherever we work, live, or play.
People throughout the globe have endured a traumatic time filled with stress, tension, vigilance, and fear. Our worlds have been turned upside down.
Perhaps we should take care to turn them right side up again gently.
May the good things that have come on this forced retreat, remain.
May the unity, love, generosity, and creativity that have been seen everywhere during this long, cold, lonely winter be still with us when the thaw comes.
And when the ice finally melts, and the rivers of life are once again in full flood may we see and live the words spoken by Amos so many years ago. A cry that has sustained countless people with hope throughout the centuries.
“..let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream. “
If that heart cry is fulfilled in the Spring, then this hard Winter will have been worth enduring.
Oh Lord. Let it be so.
Amen.
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