Every breath was a struggle. I watched the patient as he focused on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Absolute concentration. He had been wearing a BiPAP mask for nearly 24 hours, having failed the nasal cannula and non-rebreather mask. The BiPAP creates a seal around the nose and mouth, making it difficult to talk, much less eat. Today we were going to try to get him to snack. Not too much, as that could lead to aspiration. Banana. Gelatin. Water.

That damn N95 mask. It cuts into the skin, along the cheekbones, above the Adam’s apple, and most glaringly across the bridge of the nose. Strategically placed band-aids could prevent further abrasions, but they don’t lessen the discomfort. In addition to the cuts, the masks place a persistent pressure that bores into the lower jaw. By hour 11 of the shift, it feels as if I’ve spent the day grinding my teeth. By hour 12, we all start to doubt whether the life-saving properties are worth the trouble.