'I work knowing the risks': An ER nurse on being a medical martyr
Am I willing to be a medical martyr? Lately I keep running through the scenario of what I would do if a Covid-19 patient lay dying in the ER, was in need of intervention, and all I had to protect myself was a surgical mask or worse yet a homemade cloth mask. I imagine the man I previously wrote about, the one who was heartbreakingly separated from his wife before being intubated, now suffocating on his own secretions… alone. Can I stand by and watch that? Can I ever return to work or back to my family knowing I did nothing?
Reports of healthcare workers on the frontline losing their lives to Covid-19 are everywhere. The Guardian even has an entire series about it. As hospitals and nursing homes are overwhelmed and face a lack of PPE, nearly 2,800 healthcare workers in California have tested positive for coronavirus so far, and there are undoubtedly many cases that go unreported.
Among my coworkers, the fear is real. My own family is concerned. My wife and children have been left in tears when I’ve recounted stories from my shift as if it were any other work story. Everyone in my house is noticeably more affectionate when I’m home from work, longer hugs, more meaningful goodbyes. They’ve all cried, and I’ve had to tell them that if I was too afraid or caught up in my own thoughts at work that I wouldn’t be able to execute my job effectively.
As of late I avoid talking about work around the kids and limit the conversations with my wife to what I feel she can tolerate. I can read the dread on her face, worrying she’d lose me. Cloistered at home, we sometimes walk around on eggshells when the topic of Covid-19 comes up.
At the same time, these nights on a Covid-19-stricken ER are helping me to clarify my purpose and direction. I’ve lived an amazing life. Sure, not everything has gone my way, but the proverbial wind has always been at my back. Does that mean I want to die? No! I want to see my kids grow old! But I also want to make a difference.
I chose nursing because I wanted to help people live, and in turn that has made me feel more alive. Using my skills and knowledge to change the outcome of someone who could live to meet their soulmate, or walk their kid down the aisle or hold their first born or grandchild, that is truly living.
Working in the ER, I’ve witnessed how random death can be and firmly believe that when your number is up that’s it. I work knowing the risk, and if this virus takes hold of my lungs and chokes the life out of me, that was how it was supposed to be. Until that moment I’m going to live the fullest, working to help as many people as I can. If I don’t, fear wins.
So I try to repeat my mantra – to do nothing out of selfish desire or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than myself – and I keep reminding myself that death is a part of life. The darkness can be disorienting but morning will come and bring light
and warmth and more life.