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

Peggy arrived with her overnight satchel, anticipating her last call night. A permanent faculty member had been recruited and was expected to start in the coming days, whom Emily had boasted would be an excellent addition to the Division.

Ann McCauley looked at her. “What are you going to do now?”

“Retire. I’m old, fat, diabetic, and I don’t have the energy to keep this up. This was my last hoorah.”

“Gad. Are you sad?”

“At the beginning, yes. Now, not at all. I was proud of all the things I had learned to do for people, and it took me my whole life to develop that level of skill. I was devastated when I suddenly had to leave it behind. But you guys were so enjoyable and so uplifting. I got to spill out buckets of things I had in my brain that I needed to impart on someone. Now, I’m tired, I want to spend time on grandnieces, with my wife, and with my community. Once in a while, I want to get up in the morning and think, ‘What am I going to do today?’”

“That’s so nice,” Ann said. “Most are chomping at the bit to get out when they get to retirement age and can’t think of anything but vacations or motor homes. Your view is more fulfilling and more peaceful.”

“Thank you for that. Fulfilled and peaceful is exactly how it feels, and how I needed it to feel.”

“We appreciate the pearls of wisdom. We’ll all benefit, and I predict we’ll all pass the pearls on down to people who didn’t know you.”

“Well thank you. Thanks so much.”

“Did the scourge leave any scars?” Ann asked.

At this point Josh decided he needed to listen, and Ricky approached.

“When Faith coded, I was dashed. I didn’t see it coming. She was so difficult to resuscitate that I had to filter through a raft of possible problems. I wondered how I was going to manage. I kept thinking about what I would tell you, Josh, her family, and Emily. Thankfully, a clot was the right diagnosis, the radiologist thought he could get it out, and it worked. I still dream about it.”

“We’re thankful you pulled it off,” Ann said, “although I didn’t think you would or could. I thought the radiology idea was off the deep end, but I am sure glad you tried it. Like you said in the ICU when we were all shocked that you wanted to move a patient that is still coding through hallways and elevators, that if we stayed in the ICU it wouldn’t end well. That was the truth, even though I was having trouble accepting it.”

“Did this leave you with any scars?” Peggy asked.

“Yes. Jenessa and the cesarean section.” Ann wiped a tear. “I don’t know why she is branded on my soul, but she got to me. When Ricky told me what you two had discussed, I was speechless. I hadn’t even thought about it. But the way it turned out, I will never forget it, and I will always think of it when I have a maternal death with a viable fetus. We have those, occasionally, especially auto accidents with head injuries. I will always think of it.”

Ricky spoke next, “Jenessa was impressive, I admit, but my scar is Reyenne. I held her hand as she just faded away. She was the first patient I had cared for who died, and she was the first one I had actually seen die. There was nothing to do, and I was so angry at Brian Yankton because we couldn’t find him. She is burned on my soul.”

“Mine is Melanie,” Faith said. “I was crushed the morning that I found out Reyenne had died, but I was there when Melanie died. All I could think of was that she was leaving three kids behind. I will always remember her. Peggy, you said you dream about me? I dream about Melanie, and the dreams keep me awake.”

“I think we all matured and benefited. It may have been a horrible way to learn some of the things we learned, but it shows that learning goes on forever, and you can’t always tell what form it will take.”

The chatting stopped when rounds began to look organized.

“Look, everybody, Faith is here,” Haley said. “It is nice to have you back. We were afraid we might have lost you.”

“Just for the record, I’m glad they’re here too,” Josh said.

“They?” Haley asked.

“Cori’s jumping!” Faith said.

“Well, yes. Cori. What’s this?” Haley asked, pointing to a lump under Faith’s glove. “What happened? Tell us all about it!”

Faith grinned, held her hand up for Haley to inspect. “Josh and I are engaged,” she said.

There were congratulations and accolades. Faith pulled her glove off to dazzle everyone with the ring Josh had given her.

“What did your parents think?” Peggy asked.

“They are excited. Especially Natalie.”

“When is the wedding?” Haley asked.

“We don’t know.”

“When did Josh pop the question?”

“To my family, the day I coded. To me, the day I was discharged from the hospital.”

“How far along are you now?” Haley asked.

“Twenty-two weeks.”

“What’s her name?”

Faith paused to optimize the suspense. “It’s Cori.”

“Cori is nice,” Haley said. “I’m glad you didn’t name her Corona.”

“What was the worst part?” Ricky asked.

Faith rolled her eyes. “The chest pain. I still have to be careful how I move. Let me tell you, chest compressions are not good for ribs.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” said Emily. “I know this has been a distressful ordeal for everyone. The long hours, extra shifts, the deaths, the ICU, Faith and Josh, and medication and supply shortages. I am proud of you all.”

“Oh Faith, I wasn’t sure you would pull through,” Ann said. “I am glad it turned out good. I was afraid of kidney failure and brain damage.”

“Haley got the brain damage.”

“Shut up Ricky.”

Rounds were succinct. After disbanding to their individual duties, Emily pulled Peggy aside. “I am thankful you were here. You saved us, and I think you saved Faith, too. I wish you would stay.”

Peggy shook her head. “I am thankful you had me come. It was good for me. I am so happy Faith pulled through. That was the afternoon to remember.”

“Please stay another year?”

“Gosh, Emily, I need to be a great aunt, aunt, spouse, and citizen of my little Crystal Springs. I appreciate the offer and am flattered. But I am ready for the next phase of my life. Besides, you have a real maternal-fetal medicine specialist coming to work and she’s not even a fresh graduate.”

“But I need two to—”

“You have given me a gift beyond what you can imagine. I took this offer on a whim, but in the end, you have transformed a grumpy, unhappy old woman who had been forced by brain and body to retire from something she loved, and turned her into a satisfied, peaceful, content retiree with self-worth. I thank you for that.”

“Well, thank you,” Emily said. “If you change your mind…”

Thanks to Jean Scanlan, who got me started writing these books. Thanks to Ed McClelland and Martha Hinson who read and helped revise and perfect the narrative. Thanks to Derek McIlfresh and Andy Ross for content editing.

Thanks to the coronavirus epidemic of 2020 which provided the time and material to write this book.

Special thanks to all the health care providers who, unlike me, took care of patients who were not only critically ill, but also a lethal threat to themselves. While not in this fictional account, nurses, respiratory therapists, pharmacists, laboratory technicians, radiology technicians, environmental services, administrators, accountants, security personnel, and others contributed in crucial ways. Their contribution is not intended to be diminished by this account of physicians battling COVID. I hope others will write accounts, both fictional and non-fictional, emphasizing some of those crucial caregivers, about whom I am not qualified to write.