A Report From the Field

This is a guest post from my friend, Linda Savarese Wrinn, who works in a skilled nursing facility in Massachusetts. One day recently she left work, pulled over to the side of the road, cried, and ferociously wrote and wrote before heading home to be with her family. The only changes I made were to add the pictures.

A report from the field

I’m not on the front line. I’m in that place where we can hear the gunfire in the distance. And that distance gets shorter every day. Every hour.

I work in a skilled nursing facility which is usually a place where the elderly live their last chapter, often with hollowed out memory capacity. It’s also a place where 40 yr old addicts come to rest before round 10 in their lifelong battles with their self esteem. It’s the place where 60 somethings come after a knee replacement to get strong enough to get back to life. In other words it’s all of us. It’s your siblings and your parents and your grandparents.

And it’s caregivers. And we’re not warriors. We’re empaths. We don’t want to care for patients with a layer of armor between us. We want to hold their hands. They need to see us smile to know it will be all right. What should we tell them when we’re getting hit with the shrapnel of this virus. When we’re suddenly taking care of acute level patients so the hospitals can keep beds free for critical care patients. When we’re isolating them to spare them and they’re getting it anyway.

We have the callouses of war. Our hands are raw from OCD scrubbing. Our cheekbones are bruised from the masks. We don’t breathe fresh air until our shift is done. It brings out the best in us and we cry from caring. It brings out the worst in us and we are anxious yet we have to find a way to trust our colleagues because our safety depends on all of us working together. More than ever.

I think I speak for a lot of us in healthcare when I say, I’m not scared of this virus. Honestly? Come at me! I have an immune system and the sooner we meet the sooner I get over you. But stay away from my patients. Stay away from my colleagues who have autoimmune disorders and those who were ready to ride out the last few years of a long career safely. The pregnant coworker who deserves to be home taking it easy. The nurse who cares about the patients like they’re family. Leave them alone.

I leave work and see the public still out in vast numbers. Please stay home. Make do with what you have. It’s not just about you. It’s about the vulnerable and they are getting sick and they are dying and you can prevent it. Stay home. This curve is off the charts and we can’t fight it alone. Stay home.

To my fellow healthcare workers I say we are now warriors but the best kind. The kind who love and don’t let the scars of the battle harden us. We won’t be saved. We will save. And we won’t stop until safety is won.

Reprinted on My Little Blue Kayak with permission of the author.

Doctors, nurses, therapists, social workers, housekeeping staff, maintenance staff, food service staff and administrative staff make our health care facilities run. This war, could not be fought without them. Thank them, share this post with them, send them your gratitude and you love.

Choose health. Stay home!

Lake Girl

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