It has been a long 15 months. As a pediatrician in New Rochelle, mother to children with chronic health conditions, and daughter of parents initially reluctant to accept their own susceptibility, it has taken a while to process and reflect on the covid-19 pandemic.
The overwhelming sense of vulnerability and uncertainty was the hardest part in the early days, when everything unfolded in real time. Shortly after treating a young girl with an ear infection, I learned that she and her family had attended what was later to be known as a “super-spreader event” which put our epicenter of New Rochelle on the global map. Two days later, The Department of Health set up shop downstairs in our office building, secured by National Guard, making it difficult and somewhat intimidating to continue seeing our patients. Tensions ran high as we were committed to staying opened, which we did, we did not shut down for even one day throughout the pandemic! We adapted by scheduling different hours to separate well care and sick patients, offering telehealth visits, wearing PPE once we had them, and had bi-weekly zoom conferences with our head of Infectious Disease.
On the home front, Sam left his freshman college dorm room intact and flew home from Atlanta for his spring break, having no idea he would be told the following week that campus would not re-open until late August. Because he had diabetes and asthma we didn’t want him to fly round trip to pack up his room once the country went into lockdown. Fortunately, a good friend of mine who lives in Georgia cleared out his room, sent most to storage and the remainder home. Ben returned 3 weeks early from his long-awaited senior trip to Israel-Poland. Leo stayed home and learned remotely, happy to see his brothers but sad, among other things that soccer was cancelled, and that his best friend’s Bar Mitzvah was changed to a weekday zoom just a few days before the event.
I enjoyed having a full house a few months earlier than expected, and of course our dog Pepper was thrilled. Like everyone else, we took things one day at time, navigating food delivery and adjusting to the world of Zoom. The more serious issues were our concern for loved ones who lived far away, convincing our at-risk family members to remain hyper-vigilant, and trying to absorb the enormity of the expected mortality we feared while hearing news from Asia, then Europe. Within weeks, we knew the devastating losses that many families would face. My dear Uncle Lou passed away at the onset of Covid from unrelated health conditions, which my mother and cousins felt was a blessing because he would have hated the isolation. Within the coming months, several of my close friends lost their parents, and others waited anxiously as their friends/relatives recovered. We were lucky that our family remained healthy, and we made the most of our yards for the many birthday and graduation celebrations.
Workwise, while I knew we were essential as primary care doctors, I didn’t particularly feel like a health care hero. I wasn’t front-line in an ED or ICU setting. Sure, I was nervous about bringing Covid home to my family, since many of the patients’ parents were essential/front-line workers themselves. But our exposure was in a more controlled environment. The stress for hospital workers was unimaginable and took a terrible toll, both physically and emotionally. I was grateful to reconnect with friends from med school and residency in various specialties and time zones, via group chats and zoom. We shared best practices, but also supported each other, as we had done in our “pre-pandemic trenches.” But, I must say, I also felt a strong kinship with mothers everywhere, balancing home, work, and family during this incredibly difficult year. Covid is not over yet, and we will be feeling the ripple effects for a long time, but with many people vaccinated and spending more time outside, we’re getting there. Happy Mother’s Day, looking forward to bright year ahead!