COVID: Normalcy
Somewhere between then and now, it became normal. The N95s, the gowns, the empty trains, the solitude. The process was gradual, but the realization was sudden. It hit during a conversation at a nurses station. We were poking fun at a nurse who had floated down to our floor to cover a shift. She approached the assignment as we all once had; with an overabundance of caution and a healthy dose of fear. We snickered watching her apprehensively gown up. We saw the fear in her eyes, a look we all recognized from glimpses in our own mirrors. That look had washed out of us, only to be replaced by something more sinister: normalcy.
When this mess started, we approached our jobs with the soberness of a death sentence. The floor was silent; no banter between staff. Only the beeping of the monitors. We entered rooms tensely. Even with our protective equipment, we kept our space. I was encouraged to avoid listening to the heart and lungs and, despite my instincts, conformed to the recommendations.
The halls now are alive with conversation. Small talk. Jokes. An overwhelming sense of camaraderie pervades. The doctors, the nurses, the NPs and PAs, the janitors, we all find ways to inspire each other.
During my second week, I was fortunate to work with a nurse who maintained the same level of hands-on care in a COVID room as that on a normal floor. Since then, I’ve had no issue touching a patient, lifting a patient, readjusting a patient’s oxygen. I still respect the virus, but I no longer fear it.
With the shelter-in-place restrictions, days too lose their meaning. There are no weekends or weekdays or Mondays or Saturdays, there are only days, some with work, others without. One of these days recently was my birthday. I spent it on a frustrating COVID shift, then exorcised the pent-up emotions with a run along the Brooklyn waterfront. 5.5 miles. 6:38 pace. Smoking! 39 ain’t got shit on me!
Lori did her best to make the day feel special. In the days leading up to the birthday, we walked the Battery, beers in hand. Our original plan of cruising aboard the Staten Island Ferry were scuttled, as the outdoor decks of the ship were closed. At 7:00pm, the empty streets erupted into cheers, an event that has avoided the tag of normal, despite its consistency. We pointed out the different characters leaning out their windows, as they sound their barbaric yawps over the roofs of the world. The sun set on this city that I love as we passed through an empty, pristinely white occulus.
Sunday night dinner was punctuated with living room banners, balloons, Junior’s cheesecake, and a video call with the family. In many regards, it’s all I could want from a birthday. Despite everything, it all felt so normal.