Tony Scott - Along Came COVID - Love and Loss in the 2020 Pandemic

“He insists we talk to him about each one,” Josh said. “No other attending makes us do that.”

“We can get them out of here shortly,” Faith said, still staring at the floor. “We need to keep our unit clear so we can accommodate people who really need us.”

Peggy nodded. “Have we got ICU patients?”

Ann said, “Yes, both are in Medical ICU. We’re waiting on coronavirus detection tests on both.”

“Here we go,” Peggy said. She thought about the plagues in Europe in the Middle Ages.

Haley, Faith and Ann looked at each other.

“What?” Peggy asked, clueless again.

“I’m not at all comfortable with this,” Ricky boldly stated. “We may be about to enter our most critical time with our flat-out weakest attending!”

“Stop,” Peggy snapped. “Let’s take this conversation somewhere else.”

Like Keystone Cops, they made for the little conference room, shed the medical students, and shed their PPE.

Ricky took command again. “I don’t like this. We’re concerned we could have another death in the ICU today or tonight.”

“Should we talk to Dr Beacham?” Haley asked. “Ann, you’re our leader. Can you take us to Dr Beacham to talk?”

Josh next, “I second that.”

“I’m good with that,” Ricky said. “We need to have this conversation today.”

Peggy didn’t notice that Ann was on a call. “We need to talk to you. We’re concerned about a situation that is immediately upon us, and we need to have direction. Could the five of us — no, six of us — come talk to you? Or can you come to us?” There was a pause. “We’re in the little conference room in the hospital. We can come to you if you need us to.” There was another pause. “Yes, ma’am.” Another pause. “That should be fine. I’ll make that happen.” Ann glanced at each of them. “Yes, thank you. See you then.”

“OK!” Haley said. “Spill it!”

“We’re meeting at noon in the office building conference room. Be sure you’re there, Peggy.”

Peggy was still bewildered, “Is this situation that bad?”

Ricky said, “Oh, yeah, that bad.”

There was discussion of other patients and issues, followed by scattering to work they all wanted to have finished up before noon.

The impact of the previous night darkened Peggy’s vision and thickened the shadow over this morning. With a plodding gait, she made her way to his fellows’ closet desk. She slumped into her chair, opened a Diet Mountain Dew, logged onto her computer, and organized the tasks she needed to accomplish.

Faith entered, the frosted window acknowledging her soft spirit by emitting no sound. Josh followed, the two sitting in chairs halfway across the room, far exceeding the recommended six feet.

“We’re pregnant,” she announced.

“Congratulations. I assume this is your baby, Josh?”

“Yes. We think it’s a girl and we’re thinking her name is Cori.”

“That’s a nice name,” Peggy responded. “I’m glad it’s not Corona.”

“It’s not,” Faith said. “I had thought of this name before the pandemic, and it turns out my parents considered that name for my sister Natalie. I was only eleven years old at the time, so I don’t remember the discussion, but maybe that’s where it came from.”

Josh said, “We might tease some people about Corona, though. Like Haley.”

“She deserves it,” Peggy said.

“That’s what I said,” Faith agreed.

“So, how’s it going?” Peggy asked.

“Good so far,” she answered. “I haven’t felt her move yet, but I’m only fifteen weeks.”

“Yes. Glad to hear it. What do you think, Josh?”

“I’m so excited,” he said. “On one hand I am proud and excited, and on the other I know parenting is a life’s work. And to top that off, we’re bringing her into a world of COVID.”

Faith said, “We haven’t been telling anyone, except our parents. I met his parents on Facetime. He has a lawyer sister who helped me with my divorce. We’ve talked to my parents and sister several times. They met him when they came to help me move.”

Peggy changed the subject. “You have been learning amazing things that you discuss in rounds. I’m proud of you. Both of you.”

“I’ve been reading everything I can,” Faith said. “This pregnancy doesn’t help, though. Reading makes me so sleepy.”

“I’m completely familiar with that. At night, sometimes, I can hardly stay awake long enough to find where I left off the night before. It’s getting worse as I get older.”

“I’m trying to keep up,” Faith affirmed. “I want to become you, Ann, or Emily. I want to have that knowledge and judgment.”

“You’re on your way. Just keep going,” Peggy said.

“Can you believe Reyenne died?,” Josh said. “How does that happen?”

Peggy said, “It’s a bad virus. I didn’t think it was going to be, but it’s turning into a train wreck. I hope we learn quickly how to deal with it.”

“Me too,” Faith said. “I just can’t get past Reyenne.”

“I understand. In obstetrics we have occasional fetal or newborn deaths, but we almost never have maternal deaths. In fact, I have personally never had one.” Peggy added, “I don’t know how oncologists do it. Take care of a patient for years only to have them die.”

“How do we deal with this?” Josh asked.

“We have to be confident that we did all we could,” Peggy said. “We have to feel good about what we did, not what we could have done or should have done. A few months from now, when we know a lot more about this virus, we have to try not to kick ourselves for not doing what we then know might have saved her. We don’t know it now, and we don’t have it now.”

Faith’s face reflected her distress. “Not so easy. I keep thinking, what if it was Natalie?”

“Oh, no,” Peggy said. “It’s not easy. I don’t pretend it is. I keep thinking what if it was my wife, sister, nieces, or my brother-in-law who has serious lung issues?”

“It still could be,” Josh said. “I have a feeling this isn’t over. I’ve read that we’re going to have a short, violent wave followed by a longer, less dramatic wave before we have the medications and vaccines necessary to slow it down. Masks and isolation are only so good.”

“But that means it could be a year or two!” Faith said. “We’re in for a long haul. And I’m going to have a baby in the middle of it?”

“Thankfully,” Peggy said, “your baby is not at high risk of severe disease or death. You are, because of your pregnancy and your Humira, but not your baby.”

“I’ve read that too,” Josh said. “I hope that holds up as we learn more about it.”

“You’re at risk, Peggy,” Faith said. “Probably more than me.”

“I think so, too. Old, fat, and diabetic.” She snickered. “I’ll try to be careful, but I’m not scared of it.”

“I worry about her mom,” Josh said. “If I can use your words, Peggy, she’s fat, not as old, and diabetic.”

“Time will tell,” Faith said.

“Let’s just be careful, wear masks and face shields, wash our hands, and hope for the best.” Leaving the room, it was Josh who closed the door which quietly rattled at Peggy.

A few minutes shy of noon, the conference room had the whole obstetric team, a few with lunches. Low conversation ended abruptly when Emily entered. She took a seat at the end of the table, arranged a yellow legal pad, and unwrapped a sandwich. She made eye contact with Peggy.

“We are concerned about tonight,” Josh stated. “We are facing coronavirus patients, one of whom could well die tonight, with our weakest attending.”

“We need help with this,” Ann added. “I am not sure what we expect of you, but we are frankly scared of him in this current mess.”