I woke coughing like a seal and gasping for breath one Christmas Eve many, many years ago. I don’t recall how we got to the train tracks, but I do remember being held in my father’s arms while sitting in the front seat of my grandfather’s car. My mother and grandmother were seated in the backseat and my grandfather was anxiously gripping the steering wheel as we waited for the endless train to pass. I vaguely recall a doctor’s office, though it was likely the local Emergency Department, because my next memory was walking to a bed wearing a much too large for me hospital gown. I celebrated my third birthday during that stay.
Every winter for the next decade I would have similar breathing episodes. My family learned during my hospitalization that a homemade steam-room could alleviate the life-threatening symptoms. Unfortunately, the shower never quite relieved my fear of gasping for breath.
Now that I am older, asthma is my respiratory nemesis. I keep a close eye on how many doses remain in my inhaler. Fortunately, I have access to this medication. This was not always the case and it may be in short supply very soon. Seasonal allergies or a common cold can trigger an episode and plague my vulnerable lung tissue. I work for a healthcare company who has taken away my sick leave, a move that has ignited a new fear within me. Economic uncertainty.
I work with behavioral health patients who often live in close quarters. A vulnerable population without adequate healthcare, much less the funds to pay for medications. We try very hard to care for these people with compassion and understanding, which in the era of COVID-19, puts me and others with underlying respiratory illness at great risk.
Disinfectant wipes have a home in my purse, so when my teen age son and I went to the movies two weeks ago, I used those wipes to clean our tray tables and seat controls prior to sitting down. My son never objected. He stood patiently waiting. A fifty-something man sitting one row behind us had been closely observing my actions and made a loud comment to the teenage girl sitting next to him. He looked directly at me and said “RIDICULOUS”. I returned his gaze and notified him that I have asthma, that I work in an emergency department and it is in his best interest that I stay healthy. He said nothing.
So, no theater for us this weekend. My time has been dedicated to making surgical masks from tightly woven cotton cloth for myself and some colleagues; a CNA who is a single mother with severe asthma, my neighbor the paramedic, another CNA whose father was recently diagnosed with lung cancer and a police officer who is currently undergoing chemotherapy. The reason that my machine is humming this weekend is because my community needs protective gear and I know how to sew. The lack of governmental preparation has led to a national mask shortage during a global pandemic, leaving us exposed to illness and unrest.
We as a Nation must seek answers to the cause of this negligence, as well as the overall financial and emotional cost of the inadequate response. Lying, cruelty and denial will not end this chaos, but innovation, understanding and community support will. We are STRONG and we will RISE! We need one another and are now being reminded that working together is what makes survival possible.
Please pray for my friend who is caring for patients in the ICU of a busy teaching university hospital in a large mid-western city. Pray that she has the energy to sustain herself and her staff through the long hours ahead. Please thank the janitorial team at any given facility who are scrubbing floors, door handles and bathrooms. Thank a Respiratory Therapist for their bravery. Order take-out if you can. Remember to wash your hands and stand 6 feet apart, so that in the future you will be able to sing Happy Birthday for 20 seconds to your grandmother and her friends. And when we finally get back to the movies, please be kind to the woman cleaning her tray table and seat controls.
Peace, Good Health and Understanding
KAKW
Where are all the Yoda Pajamas? 