There are certain text messages you never want to receive. "I tested positive for COVID…"
There are certain messages you never want to receive. I got this one on my phone: "I tested positive for COVID. But I'm fine."
A handful of words that can make you lose sleep. You begin with the same set of questions you've been asking for weeks at the emergency call center. But you're not asking a stranger on the other end of the line.
You're asking a co-worker you care about, deeply, with whom you've shared many moments of your life and work. And everything changes. Because she and I both know what happens if she gets worse. She and I both know what happens on the other side of that hospital door.
Even though you know the chances of dying are low, that people almost always recover from COVID, your thoughts inevitably go to those who are worst off, intubated in the ICU. Because if bad luck has to choose, it often and happily chooses medical professionals-turned-patients.
While you chat, you already know where you need to end up; the difficult part.
"How is your breathing?" is the crucial question. Until you get an answer, everything stands still; everything stops. Then the reply text: "MY BREATHING IS FINE."
And you let out your breath. Never before has that expression been so spot on.
From thereon out, your social routine changes. Your daily texts are no longer about how work's going, or various bullshit. The messages always begin with: "Is everything OK? How are you?" And the messages always end with, "Be careful. I love you." And every time the reply takes a while to get to you, your anxiety rises...
This is the easy part.
Because there are also the chats with co-workers who are in the ICU. You can't ask them how they're doing or breathing. You suddenly understand what it means for a relative to have no news...
Group chats become a necessity. And even though I hate group chats profoundly, I have to thank the person who invented them. Because imagine working in an ICU where a loved one, who does your same job, is hospitalized.
You have no idea how many messages they get, asking how they're doing, and the only way to stay updated about their condition is through group chats. Each chat group is named after the person who's hospitalized. Because unfortunately you never have just one group, so you need to keep it brief and cynically practical.
Every time a message pops up, so does your anxiety, so you learn not to text anything, or ask anything, and just wait for your co-worker to get off their shift and text you an update. A message about who's stable, who's breathing well and whose kidneys are working. You don't ask anything about the text sender. You reply with a simple "thank you." Because you know your co-worker just wants to go home to their family, take a shower, and turn off their brain from everything and everybody.
I know perfectly well that we are the fortunate ones, because the relatives of the hospitalized don't get any message. They get a phone call, and imagine if they accidentally don't get to it in time. Because the callers have very little time and have to quickly call the next relative on the list.
All of this takes its toll. All of it. Every day more and more. But this is the life we chose. So you press on. Giving it everything you've got.
But know this: We're not doing this because we're heroes or angels. You have no idea how much it pisses us off to be called that. We're simply human beings with a tremendous fear of getting sick and dying, just like you.
The only difference is we chose this job. We pour our professionalism, dedication and much, much passion into it.
Get ride of the words "heroes" and "angels," I'm begging you. A "thank you" is more than enough. Clearly, sending care packages or drawings to our workplace is definitely welcome.
Once again today I've rambled. But my writing goes hand in hand with the regularity of my bowel movements. I can't help it.
I've been asking you for days. And I'll keep asking you.
Stay home.
Please.
Nurse Baldini
#stateacasa #noinonsimmollauncazzo
PS. If you have no money for a donation, or magic markers to send a drawing, or if you can't send care packages... When all this is over, if I'm still alive, I'll tell you how to express your gratitude to me, and to those on the front lines. Especially those living in places that need the attention.