I was searching for a quote tonight. I was aimlessly seeking some profound words of wisdom that would capture how I am feeling. I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find them. I can only look inside my heart and read the words imprinted there and share them with you.
My friend Jamie, a nurse, posted the following at the beginning of this week (credit to Chad Ingle): “40k dead now. Last week it was 20k. But by all means go to the fucking beach.” Before you get yourself all riled up for a multitude of reasons, I’m not about to launch into another lecture about following the shelter-in-place and social distancing rules and laws. I’m about to attempt, lame as it may be, to honor the men and women who are on the front line of this crisis.
The quote within Jamie’s post was profound for me because it reflected a great disconnect between those who serve and those who do not. I’m sure that statement makes you uncomfortable, particularly the ‘serve’ reference, but it’s the goddamn truth.
I have a deep and abiding respect for those folks who are essential workers. I am eternally grateful for the folks doing food shopping for others, delivering takeout orders, running banks and gas stations and so on and so forth. They are risking their health and lives serving us and they are owed a debt far greater than most receive in their paychecks.
This post is not about them.
This post is about our health care workers. This post is about our nurses, doctors, and techs. This post is about pharmacists and technologists. This is about the people who are face to face with COVID-19. I am not overlooking or undervaluing the positions at the hospital such as admitting clerks and janitorial staff. Not by a long shot. I am just not focusing on them tonight.
Tonight I am talking about my friend Jamie and so many like her.
We honk our horns and scream out of our windows at 7 PM every day but many of us fail to have and hold and exhibit the true respect and reverence that these folks deserve.
I am not sure I would ever possess the specific type of intelligence or skill set to fill the shoes of any one of these folks, not even with a whole world of education available to me. Perhaps I would. I know what I do not have. I don’t have the gumption, the toughness, the steel determination that is required to do what these people do.
Our health care workers that are battling this pandemic are not heartless or dead inside. To the contrary. They have bigger hearts than the rest of us. They do. They have decided to dedicate and risk their lives to save ours. Think about that for just a moment.
They risk their lives every single day in their chosen profession, but right now that risk is keenly felt. Many of them are under protected and over worked.
Many of us have a feeling right now that we are doing battle every day. We feel weary. We have lost sight of what day of the week it is or even the time of day. We feel like we are stuck in a never-ending and maddeningly repetitive merry-go-round. It feels like a struggle to stay motivated to do our jobs or take care of our families or find a way to thrive and function in the face of unemployment. We lament our inability to easily get the food we want and miss socialization. Some of us our sick. Some with COVID-19 and some with other ailments. We feel worn down and worn out.
We do. And yet, we ain’t seen nothing.
These beautiful people on the front line. That’s some shit right there. And before you correct me telling me that you know a doctor or nurse or physicians assistant with less than stellar bedside manner, save your breath. Not my concern. Totally irrelevant fact.
These people are our soldiers in a war against disease. They are soldiers with less than perfect strategic plans, inadequate information, and insufficient protection. They are soldiers contending with an enemy whose face changes every day, making it virtually unrecognizable. They are soldiers subject to insubordination and infighting. They are soldiers who are often taken for granted. The protection that they offer is expected. It is considered commonplace and ordinary.
Sure, we post profound videos and telling photographs. We speak of throwing these folks a parade and cheer their published victories (patient #____ released from the ICU COVID unit). But do we really get it? I mean REALLY get it.
I am tired tonight. Exhausted. I’ve worked many hours in the last few weeks. That is not meant to elicit sympathy. It is a fact. The tiredness I feel does not hold a candle to the type of tired these folks are experiencing right now. The fatigue that they feel is the type that occurs when you’ve worked too much, seen too much, and felt too much. What needs to be done to achieve a victory and what must be felt during a loss is utterly draining. And the staggering part? Many, many, many of these folks don’t complain. They would not express what I am stipulating and speculating here. To them it is a job. It is every day life. It is a vow they took. It is a promise they made. To them, it is the same as getting up and deciding to breathe.
Really consider that for a moment. What that is really like. I am not taking away from you whatever it is you do or did for a living. I am not diminishing sacrifices you have made or risks you have taken. I think that we can celebrate these folks and honor them in the way in which they deserve without comparison or caveats. We can marvel at their sacrifices and courage without pointing out a singular negative or making a singular disclaimer.
These folks are built like us. They are human. They may seem super human but at the end of the day, they have beating hearts and functioning brains. Some may be sensitive and mushy and others colder and more clinical. Whatever their respective personalities, they are humans. Just like us.
You can beep your horn or yell out your window. You can post your touching videos and caption the profound photographs you find. You can do nothing except have gratitude. You cannot be devoid of gratitude. You cannot ignore or cheapen their sacrifices.
So tonight, after another long day of work, and with more work left to do…I want to say thank you. Thank you, Jamie. Thank you health care workers. Thank you for your time and energy. Thank you for everything.
Thank you.
Talk to you tomorrow.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 