Making sacrifices to
protect others
Curmudgeon’s
Corner
IVAN RACONTEUR • EDITOR
I don’t suppose anyone chooses to visit a hospital
in the middle of a pandemic, but in the wake of my
recent stroke, I was forced to do just that. Doing so
gave me a new appreciation of the men and women
who work in healthcare.
My adventure began with a visit to my primary care
physician.
The first thing I noticed upon arriving at the clinic
was that I had to go through a sort of pre-screening
before I could approach the desk to check in for my
appointment.
There, and for the remainder of my experience, I
never saw a person’s face. Everyone I encountered
wore a mask, and some also wore shields.
It was like being trapped at some bizarre, nev-
er-ending Halloween party.
The screeners asked if I had experienced any symp-
toms, if I had been exposed to anyone with COVID-19,
and if I had done any traveling recently. They also
scanned my forehead to take my temperature. This
became a familiar routine.
After a brief exam, my doctor sent me to the hospi-
tal to get an MRI of my brain.
This began with another round of screening and
temperature-taking.
When the MRI was complete, I was asked to re-
main in a small waiting room until my doctor had
seen the results.
Then, a nurse came along and whisked me off to a
room in the surgery department. That made me think.
I had just had an MRI on my brain, and now I was in
the surgery department connected to a bunch of wires.
As it turned out, I didn’t have brain surgery. I guess
that was just a place to store me until they figured out
what to do with me.
Eventually, I was admitted to the hospital, where I
was introduced to a steady stream of people for the
next two days. I couldn’t pick any of them out of a
lineup, on account of the masks. I gather there were a
collection of doctors, nurses, nursing assistants, physi-
cian’s assistants, technicians, and more.
Each time there was a shift change, I was handed
off to a new lot who administered the same tests and
asked the same questions. I was asked my name and
10
date-of-birth so many times, I secretly began to won-
der if they were trying to trip me up. I considered giv-
ing them different answers one time just to relieve the
monotony, but then I figured they were just doing their
jobs, and they didn’t strike me as the kind of people
who would have a sense of humor about that sort of
thing.
Before they would release me, I had to see a physi-
cal therapist, a speech therapist, an occupational ther-
apist, and a neurologist.
The whole experience was a bit of a blur, but despite
the anonymity, I did manage to learn a little bit about
the pleasant voices behind the masks.
I learned that the voices belong to real people who
are doing incredibly stressful, demanding jobs under
difficult conditions.
They do delicate, precise tasks while wearing
gloves, masks, and other protective equipment. They
have to stop and wash their hands constantly, and use
hand sanitizer every time they enter or exit a room.
Through all this, they remain committed to the health
of their patients, and worry about protecting their own
families.
I heard from healthcare workers whose lives have
changed in the face of COVID-19. I heard how some
of them – after a shift on the front lines – strip off in
their garages when they get home. They sanitize any-
thing they might have touched in their cars, then take
a shower before greeting their own children or even
their pets.
Others are choosing to live apart from their families
during this pandemic to keep them safe.
For some people, COVID-19 may be something re-
mote. It might be easy for those people to sit back and
debate whether it is fair for them to be inconvenienced
by it.
For others, such as healthcare workers and others
on the front lines, COVID-19 is a reality that affects
their professional and private lives every day. They
make sacrifices to protect the rest of us. Now, more
than ever, we owe them our thanks.
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