Iannuccilli: Health Care Workers - It’s What They Do

Iannuccilli: Health Care Workers - It’s What They Do

I spoke with a young physician whose hospital shifts have been long and stressful, like nothing she had ever seen. “I never trained for a pandemic,” she wept. “Who trains for a pandemic? So many fears . . . of losing a patient, contracting the virus, of transmitting it, bringing it home to loved ones. How does anyone do it?”

“It’s what I do,” replied the emergency response technician during an interview I saw on PBS. “Sure, the hours are long, the fear runs deep, the pay does not match the intensity, I have no health insurance and I worry for my family. But, it’s what I do. And I love it. There is nothing better than helping someone who is suffering.  These days, they keep on coming. It’s never ending. But, it’s what I do,” he responded with a turn at the corner of his mouth and a heightened hesitation. I saw the fatigue hovering over these heroes.

The exhaustion is heavy, burdensome, and ever present. The long hours and never-ending flow of sick patients; patients you cannot get to know because they cannot communicate and their families are distant, barricaded away. How frustrating. Was this man an expert on birds, hiking? Was this lady a professor, famous artist? Is this the man who I can rely upon to repair my automobile so that I, without thinking, can assume I will be safe. Can I guarantee him the same?

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Our health care workers worry about doing the very best they can for their patients under the worst of circumstances. Fears are palpable. An epidemic will do that . . . threaten life, threaten veracity, inculcate doubt, and import waves of exhaustion.

It is an exhaustion unrelieved by coffee from the cafeteria. Eyelids close involuntarily followed by a startled awakening. Oh, how one aches for a cleansing hot shower followed by a crawl into a bed between the cold, clean sheets. I’ve been there during my house officer training. It can be painful.

For the first time, you realize where the pit of your stomach is, because there is the knot. It twists while you head to work. It stays for the long shift. It is eased a bit by the empathetic faces of colleagues who are tied to that same rope.

This pandemic seems biblical, like the flood or an attack of locusts. My scholar friend said, “Tristis sequella . . . a morose anxiety. Morose because it never seems to end. How much suffering lies between us and the end of this epidemic? I don’t know how long,” he continued, “but I do know there is an end. The virus will fade; we will have a vaccine, better treatments, more hope.”

This is when our workers need similar words of encouragement, a gesture, a win, a save.

“This is my job, and I love it, but I’ll tell you this; this is when we need each other most.”

It’s what they do.

 

Ed Iannuccilli is the author of "Growing up Italian" and "What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner?" and "My Story Continues" can be found here.