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

“Yes. We all have, have had, or will have upsets along the way. This one is different in that it is affecting all of us at the same time. Most of the calamities we have only affect us individually, or our family. We should be thankful for the bumps in the road we don’t have, and feel good when we survive the ones we do have.”

“Did you just reference Brian?” Ann asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t get the message you wanted to send,” said Ricky.

“Well,” Peggy said, “he is a good example of someone who had a life-threatening illness compounded by the pandemic. Maybe he could have survived the pandemic without the opiate problem, or maybe he could have survived the opiate problem without the pandemic. It could be that the combination, either of which could have been lethal in any case, broke the camel’s back.”

Julio brought tacos and drinks, a big bowl of guacamole, and several baskets of chips. After a quick trip away, he returned with a huge pitcher of Margaritas and several mugs of beer.

“Golly,” Ricky said, “think of Faith. She got a divorce from an opiate dependent husband I have been thinking was abusive, she faces what we faced with patients who died, gets critically ill with coronavirus, and now the ex-husband died. And she’s going to have a baby. How much thicker could that get?”

“Don’t you think Faith will come through this better than Brian?” Peggy asked.

Ricky shook his head, “How so?”

“Brian is someone life happened to. Faith is someone who makes life happen.”

“So, then, how do we get out of this pandemic mess?” Haley asked.

“Just keep chugging along, solving one problem after another, until the project is completed. I know all of you can do it, because you all went to college and medical school, and one of you completed a residency. You all come to work one day after the next until you complete your training.”

“You don’t think this can last forever?” Ricky asked.

“No calamity lasts forever. I’m sure Josh thinks coronavirus is lasting forever, I’m sure soldiers think tours of duty last forever, and there are some for whom diseases or pregnancies last forever. But the truth is they don’t.”

“That sounds hollow to me today,” Ann said. “I went to see Faith this afternoon and wondered how this would end.”

“I understand that,” Peggy said. “But it won’t last forever.”

“What if it doesn’t end well?” Ann asked.

Peggy shook her head and looked at Ann’s neatly coiffed, curly black hair, “Then we figure out how to deal with it and go on.”

“That sounds crude,” Haley said.

“We can console each other, support each other, and help each other over the hurdles, but in the end, we get a grip, tackle our own feelings, and treat others the way we would want to be treated. Then we move on.”

“So, what are you feeling about Faith and Brian?” Ricky asked. “Deep down and dirty.”

“I have a lump in my throat about Brian. He talked to me that afternoon, and I didn’t see him as a danger to himself. I am comforted by the fact that others, people who know a lot more about opiates and depression than I do, might not have thought of him that way either. I am terrified of the disease that is confronting Faith, and whether we who are involved with her will be able to rescue her from a game where we don’t know the rules.”

“It’s good to hear you say that,” Ann said, “because I feel a little helpless or useless. I’m glad I’m not alone.”

“Me too,” Haley said.

“You guys are not alone. If you need to talk to me alone, come find me in my ‘fellows’ closet.’” Peggy stood. “Thank you guys for inviting me. I told Alicia I wouldn’t be long, so I think I’ll head out.”

“See you tomorrow,” someone said.

“I don’t know how that woman does it,” Ricky said. “She always seems cool and controlled and full of wisdom.”

“She told me,” Ann said, “that she blows off to her wife or to her veterinarian friend. Sometimes she rides her bicycle or does yoga.”

“You’re saying that we just don’t see it,” Ricky said.

“Yes, I believe that’s it. She has the same feelings and vents just like we do, but she doesn’t do it in front of us.”

“I thought this was very helpful,” Ricky said. “We should do it regularly.”

“We were for a while,” Haley said. “But we’ve been busy, so we slacked off.”

“I’m tired,” Ann said. “I have to go home.”

“We do too.”

“Did somebody pay Julio?” Ricky asked.

“I didn’t,” Haley said.

“Neither did I,” Ann said.

“Julio,” Ricky shouted. “We need our check.”

“You’re all paid up,” Julio answered. “And I got a good tip.”

“Who paid?” Ann asked.

“The older lady.”

“Code blue, Labor and Delivery, Code blue, Labor and Delivery.”

Peggy and Ann approached Faith’s bed in ICU where personnel, including Haley and Ricky, were rapidly amassing. Josh was scrambling to get out of the way. A defibrillator and a crash cart had been brought up to her bed.

Josh, flushed and tearing, said, “I have to get out of here!” He darted for the door, Ricky right behind him.

Ricky diverted Josh to a corner of the unit and talked with Josh, soothing him as best he could, struggling to remain calm himself. Mostly, he just listened. “What happened, Josh?”

“I don’t know. We were trying to talk to her. She was responding a little bit, but we didn’t think she was ready to extubate. Since we ran out of fentanyl and propofol to keep her asleep, we have been using old slow drugs morphine and methohexital, so she doesn’t wake up as fast when we stop the drugs. We even thought it might be another hour or two. Suddenly she started moving her arms, reached up, and pulled her tube out. She hasn’t done that before, so I didn’t expect it. She also bent her legs up. I called for help when the tube came out. I didn’t know what to do next. Somebody brought me an Ambu Bag to breathe for her, but I was terrible at it. Her heart rate went down, and I melted. That’s when Haley arrived, and I was so glad to see Ann and Peggy.”

Ricky put his gloved hand on the sleeve of Josh’s gown, easing him into a chair. From where they sat, part of the conversation was audible. Neither of them could hold off tears.

Josh went on, “Then all kinds of people started coming, and I heard the page for the Code Blue. I can’t believe this is happening. After all we’ve done. I thought she was pulling through. I thought we had it made. I told her family that she would likely come off the ventilator later today, and that she was getting well. This is bad. This is so bad.”

“They’re working on her, Josh,” Ricky said. “They can figure out what’s up.”

Peggy, Ann, and Haley talked among themselves, discussing the possible reasons Faith’s heart stopped, ordering medications and lab tests, and introducing themselves to others who had come to help. From where Josh and Ricky sat, it appeared orderly.

Ricky listened to Josh. “I didn’t know what to do when she yanked her tube out. I didn’t know she would do that. There was no one else in the room with me. I felt so helpless.”

“I would have, too.”

“So why didn’t she breathe after the tube came out?” he asked.

Ricky stayed silent.

“Should I call her sister?” he asked. “What am I going to say to Natalie if Faith dies? What am I going to say to Jim?”

“Why don’t we wait a few more minutes while they figure out what happened and get things back to normal? We don’t have much information. I can’t imagine what we would say to them at this point. To them, I’m a stranger. You’re in no shape to talk to them. It would send them into a tizzy, and they couldn’t do anything about it.”