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

“Gosh, Peggy, I didn’t know all that was happening.”

“I’m sad and disappointed, but I’m not surprised. It all fits. Failing boards, poor work performance, a disintegrated marriage.”

Josh squirmed. “I don’t know how Faith will take this.”

“Hard. He was her husband of what? Four years at least?”

“Yes. Something like that. Does everyone else know?”

“No, but we’ll talk about it at rounds this morning.”

“Gosh, Peggy. This is unbelievable. I’m sorry.”

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Peggy asked.

Josh shook his head, “I don’t think there is anything to do. I don’t know his family. She never even talked about them.”

“You know you can call or text any time you need something,” Peggy said, standing to go.

“Thanks, Peggy.”

Peggy scurried through the hall to the charting station, only a few yards away. There was the usual gathering for rounds. “What happened?” Ann asked.

“I heard suicide is APD’s impression,” Peggy said.

“APD?” Haley questioned.

“Albuquerque Police Department,” Ann said.

There was silence for a period.

“I didn’t see this coming,” Ricky said. “Did anyone know anything?”

“I had no idea,” Ann said. “I just thought he was a jerk.”

Haley said. “This is getting horrible. We had three patient deaths, now an attending death, and — how can this get worse?”

There was more silence.

“Now I kind of feel bad,” Ann said.

“I wonder if he was coronavirus positive,” Haley said. “I read about neurological effects of coronavirus with seizures, strokes, and suicides.”

“Is that so? I had not read that,” Peggy said.

“Interesting,” Ricky said. “I didn’t know him either. It seemed like he avoided me.”

Heads were shaking.

“Does he have any family?” Ann asked.

Haley thumbed her phone for the directory in the hospital computer system. “He has parents in Brownfield, Texas, and Faith. That’s all.” She paused, then, “I can’t believe we have had four deaths. Three COVID and Brian. Faith is critically ill. Frankly, I find this terrifying. Life is fragile and short. We have to love and enjoy each other. We should go have Taco Tuesday tonight, anybody not on call. Shut up Ricky.”

She got approving grunts, groans, and elbow bumps.

“We can’t,” Ricky said. “Either we eat on the patio or we carry out. There’s no indoor dining right now.”

“And it’s not Tuesday,” Ann said.

A barrage of simultaneous comments, “They still have tacos.” “And great Margaritas.” “I don’t think it’s too cold to sit outside.”

“It is a wonderful idea that you guys talk tonight,” Peggy said. “It doesn’t even matter if you talk about this. Just talk. Where is Taco Tuesday, anyway?”

“At Padilla’s,” Ricky said. “It’s right around the corner from your house. You and Alicia are invited. And we need another Margarita.”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Ricky.” Haley was rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I loved it, Ricky,” Peggy relishing the abuse of her name. “You don’t want me for this, do you? You guys need to have your freedom to say what you want. I don’t want to inhibit anybody from speaking their mind.”

Ann said, “You never do that. I don’t think anyone would be afraid to speak their mind in front of you. We have learned that you don’t tell anybody things we tell you, and we feel completely free to badmouth people, even you to your face. So, I think if you like good tacos, you should come. The fish tacos are the best.”

Haley started rounds. “One of the patients came off the ventilator last night and is on nasal oxygen. The other is holding her own. They both are positive for coronavirus. We’ve got another coronavirus-positive labor patient in the first room beyond the fire doors who will deliver this morning. Pediatrics is isolating babies of coronavirus positive moms. Imagine not being able to hold your baby or take your baby home.”

“Faith did well overnight,” Ann said. “Her oxygen and PEEP have not changed, and her D-dimer is down to twice normal, which we are interpreting as normal for pregnancy. She has almost normal lymphocytes. It looks like she could get rid of the ventilator soon.”

“That’s good news,” Haley said. “Does Josh know about Brian?”

“Yes,” Peggy said. “I talked to him right after Emily called me, then I talked to him in person this morning. I wanted to see him before he went home.”

With a new weariness and almost no conversation, the group wandered off to their tasks.

The spring weather could not brighten the spirits of the group as they convened at Padilla’s. Nobody noticed the bright yellow cactus blooms near the front door, no one thought about the fresh, warm air, and the clear, dark blue, star-studded sky was ignored.

“My mind is blown,” Haley said.

“That happened way before this,” Ricky said.

“Shut up, Ricky.”

“Mine is too, if that’s any consolation,” Ann said. “It’s all right if I’m here, right? You didn’t exactly invite me, and I’m not a resident.”

“But you were a resident here,” Haley said. “Where’s your hubby?”

“On call.”

Gradually, chips, cheese, salsa, Peggy, and margaritas arrived at the table. There were jackets and hats, more against the wind than the temperature, but no one seemed to care.

“I can’t believe you guys are in hoodies and coats,” Ann said. “In Detroit, this would not be cold. Anybody want mittens?”

“It’s the wind,” Haley said.

“Yeah,” Ann answered. “Is it this cold in Arizona?”

“No!” Haley buffed back.

“Only her heart is cold,” Ricky said. “It’s not cold for Topeka, either. It is amazing how quickly you guys drag out the parkas. I thought parkas were for when it was cold.”

“Shut up Ricky.”

“I’m glad you came, Peggy,” Ann said. “We need some parenting.”

“Is that what you think I do?” he said.

“In some ways, yes,” Ann said, “but we need it. We need to learn medical things, but we also need to learn life things. Like, I struggle with the interface between work and home.”

Julio came to the table. “Can this please be Taco Tuesday?” Haley asked. “We don’t need Tuesday’s discount, but we need comfort food — tacos.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Is two dozen enough to start?”

“I think so,” Ann said. “Make some of them fish.”

“And some al pastor ,” Ricky added.

Julio took drink orders and disappeared.

“Do you have kids, Ann?” Peggy asked.

“No. Not yet,” she said. “Some day after training is done.”

“Because you think you will have more time?” she asked.

“Yes, when I have more control over my time.”

“Well, then, someone lied to you. You will have the home versus work battle all your life. You will always be short of time, training is never done, and two physicians in one house might amplify the potholes.”

“I didn’t want to hear that.”

“And things like COVID will always be around. Some of them will be in your private life instead of your professional life, and some of them will threaten your patients but not you. Some will threaten you and not your patients.”

Ricky said, “Don’t you think this pandemic is a little spectacular? Don’t you think this is a real monkey wrench?”

“Oh, yes,” Peggy said. “But you could get another monkey wrench that is just as life-changing. A special needs child, a serious health issue, or a legal disaster.”

“That sounds pessimistic,” Ricky said. “Is life actually like that?”