‘Everybody’s grieving’
P.E.I. man working as nurse in New York amid coronavirus pandemic
Joshua McInnis has seen the face of death.
After working for two weeks in Long Island, N.Y., he has seen 15 people, including four of his patients, die from coronavirus (COVID-19 strain).
“It’s a terrible way to go. I’ve had the wind knocked out of me before, and it’s a terrible feeling. The first time I saw it happen to a patient, they were on the nasal cannulas. Then we put them on a face mask and then that doesn’t work. It’s like there are three or four fires going on in the body; it’s the kidneys, it’s the heart and eventually, they’re put on a ventilator,” he said, pausing for a moment.
“What I have seen is a person come in, not going to name names or give a description, but it’s like the grim reaper really, and they’ll come in and see a person even as young as 40 and if they have asthma or COPD, they’ll say, ‘take them off. Give them morphine, give them … Ativan. Give them something for comfort because that ventilator can be used for somebody (else) who might make it’.”
McInnis, a 31-year-old Pownal native, has worked as a travelling nurse in the United States for almost two years. He was in Orlando, Fla., when the novel coronavirus hit North America. Knowing the state is a destination hub, he expected to see cases sweep through the area. At first, he thought it was a “bad flu”, but after working in a COVID-19 wing and possibly contracting the virus, he thought differently.
“I had a sore throat, coldlike symptoms and they quarantined me for two weeks. But they never actually tested me.”
‘THE BELLY OF THE BEAST’
Two weeks ago, McInnis got a call from his recruiter, asking if he would go to New York and “help put out this inferno”.
He announced his intent to go to New York, “the belly of the beast” as he called it, in a
Facebook post.
“When I got to New York, it was eerie. I’m right by the Brooklyn Bridge in downtown New York City, and there’s nobody on the streets. And the people you do see on the streets, are wearing masks. People are scared … it’s grim.”
There’s no traffic, he said. What would have been a twohour commute to the hospital in Long Island takes under 30 minutes. Measures in the state are strict.
“I think everybody knows somebody who’s died from it. People are taking the precautions seriously, now.”
He said before travel nurses arrived in the city, staff nurses were taking on a 10:1 patient load in make-shift ICU hospitals.
“No time for charting, basically nurses just run around, hanging med after med hearing ‘rapid response, code blue’ over and over. A lot of travellers (nurses) have come and things have gotten better, but it’s still pretty grim.”
Not only are people grieving the loss of human life, he said, but they are also struggling to meet the needs of their families.
“The financial loss people are dealing with… there’s a $1,200 cheque going around, and that’s nothing compared to rent in New York. Everybody’s grieving. There’s a lot going on here that the people wouldn’t see at home (in P.E.I.), that’s for sure. People miss their hair cut or getting their nails done, but it could be a whole lot worse.”
Some nights, it seems the medical codes sounding over the PA system are nonstop, said McInnis.
“Go do compressions... get the crash cart... pick a task. It’s routine at this point. I try to show compassion to my patients, but I don’t attach myself. If I did, I would have broken down by now. It’s grim, but it’s something we have to do. I’ve always done it, but never to this extent.”
McInnis works in a unit where all the patients are being tested for COVID-19 or have tested positive. Some patients in the hospital have been in treatment for over a month.
The other night, he watched a 23-year-old die from the virus. The person’s only past medical history was asthma.
“These patients don’t get family. They don’t get to see anyone. They don’t get comfort. And just the way they go, it’s not sudden. The ability not to breathe and lose them to that is a terrible thing to see … I always found the hardest part was seeing the family grieve. But to think about how it all goes down, it’s a special part of life and now it just isn’t at all. It’s inhumane as they wait for the next phase.”
Now, the worst part is making calls to families delivering the heartbreaking news.
“To tell their families we’ve maxed out every intervention we can do for their loved ones and you try to set up a facetime so maybe they can sing to their son or their loved one. That’s the part that hurts the most.”
COPING MECHANISMS
Though he hates running, McInnis has been lacing up his sneakers morning and night in the hope of preparing his body to fight the virus.
“I try to prime myself, my immune system, my heart and my lungs. I take baths instead of showers and hold my breath underwater. My dog here, she’s beautiful, and takes my mind off of what I do at the hospital.”
“But I’m trying to prime my body to the maximum. If I’m going to get COVID, I’m going to be firing on all cylinders to fight it.”
He has also started journaling and meditating to work through what he experiences in his job.
“Everyone has to grieve, it’s normal, I do a little bit. But I’ve worked quite a bit lately not to dwell on things going on because I can’t.
There are people in the hospital where their coworkers, even in our unit, a 42-year-old dad passed away and you can see it sucked the energy out of the other nurses.”
He said if he finds he’s no longer coping, he’ll tap out.
MESSAGES TO AND FROM HOME
McInnis hasn’t been watching the coronavirus situation closely in P.E.I. but knows there have been fewer than 30 cases and the province is starting to slowly open back up.
“Islanders have shown me a lot of support through this, and I believe they’d do the same for the people back home if it was to hit (like it has in New York) back there. I think they’d stay strong and support each other, and if they did, (it) wouldn’t be as grim as (it is here).”
He also encourages people to try to establish healthy eating habits, get exercise and take care of themselves.
McInnis’s mom, Linda, says Islanders don’t know how lucky they are.
“We don’t realize how widespread and the toll it can have on people. We’re so lucky to have the people we do in charge.”
Since the start of the pandemic she has been in contact with her son a couple of times a week. Now it’s about three to four times a week.
“I was scared enough when he was in Florida ... And I am worried for him. He could get sick, he could get hurt by other people who are just trying to get the basic necessities and they could become desperate. It’s not just the danger to his health that scares me.”
Besides the fear, though, she feels pride.
“He and other nurses have a special kind of heart. They put everything else aside for the sake of others. He doesn’t in any way think he’s a hero. When he decided he was going to New York, instead of coming home he said, ‘No, it’s my job, it’s what I signed up for’.”
“To tell their families we’ve maxed out every intervention we can do for their loved ones and you try to set up a facetime so maybe they can sing to their son or their loved one. That’s the part that hurts the most.”
Joshua McInnis