As I write this, the kids are in bed and I’m resting under a weighted blanket, checking my personal email (that is enormously neglected). Well, I was. Of course, now I’m writing this. Only a few feet from me my husband is at his desk dictating notes from a patient he saw today and chart prepping for his clinic in the morning. It’s 9:42 p.m. exactly. He is still working.
I hear his dictations but don’t pay much attention until the words “SARS-CoV-2 virus” leave his lips. The last patient of his day has COVID-19. And yet, here we are wrapping up our day in elastic-waist pants and college t-shirts. Three and a half hours ago he was with a coronavirus patients — and a very sick one at that.
But this is now our normal. My husband is an infectious disease physician — and a darn good one at that — so he sees several coronavirus patients every day, along with many other patients who do not have COVID-19.
Sometimes all of this feels normal. Sometimes all of this feels surreal. Sometimes I ask, “Is this really my life?”
What Has Changed
The mister gets up at 4:30 each morning and comes home somewhere typically between 6:30 – 8:30 p.m. As of the time of writing, he’s been at this for 60-ish days. Currently he is in a stretch of working 11 straight days, off three days, working 12 straight days, off two, and then again working 11 straight, off three. You get the gist. Hopefully, near the end of June there will be a break in that pattern, and he will have two weekends in a row off.
It isn’t a big change that he works a lot; it is a big change that the kids and I are home 100% of the time. The breaks that come from play dates and school don’t exist now. So I’m flying solo pretty much for the majority of parenting and household management. This isn’t a knock on him either; he is a great father and wonderful partner. It’s just the way the cookie crumbles right now.
When he gets home, there are no longer any little feet running to the door to greet him. He now goes through a daily decontamination routine before he ever touches a door handle or interacts with us.
There is also no kissing. I haven’t kissed my husband since March 17.
As his partner looking on, I’ve noticed more emotional and mental fatigue with, of course, the physical fatigue piling up. There’s something impactful about double gloving and gowning up and double masks and PAPRs and face shields and treating patients with only support measures . . . day after day. He is used to offering a medicine or a procedure and protocol to heal. That doesn’t yet exist for coronavirus.
On top of the clinical work, my husband also participates on committees and helps others navigate protocol and helps manage the administration at his own practice. He is on evening and weekend call on the regular (remember all those 11-straight days?).
We can’t escape the reality of coronavirus; we don’t forget its impact and its lingering presence. It’s been part of our life every day since March 17.
What Hasn’t Changed
The biggest, most important thing that’s stayed the same: We love each other very much. We are committed to the good of our family and the good of our neighbor. It just looks different from before. I stay in to nurture and care. He goes out to help and heal. Our perspectives are clearer now, but our goals and mission are the same.
His care for his patients the same — no matter if they heeded the warnings and followed the rules or not. He gives his best to each one. His mind is still as sharp and as smart.
This is all his work during this pandemic. He is giving it his best, and I am so proud.
And so tired.
