4 hours. 4 hours, 240 minutes, 14,400 seconds. It’s all the same. That is the amount of time it took me to get a rapid COVID test at a local drive through clinic. A clinic that to my knowledge adapted to create a drive-through for free for all people to receive testing between the hours of 8AM and 7PM. But you know what, I parked my little blue Chevy Trax outside that building at 4 o' clock on a frigid Thursday afternoon. Do the math. I didn’t leave until 8 that night. That means those healthcare workers that tickled my brain and the several nostrils before me stayed past their expected work schedule. We are going on Year 3 in this pandemic and our healthcare heroes are still just receiving a “thanks” as they deliver my oximeter past scheduled hours. Unbelievable.
Second Hand
Learning from the actions of close friends or family is one of the best ways to master a new talent. Whether it’s asking your brother if the Americano coffee cooled off or understanding the masterminds behind a farming operation, we learn through people who are relatable to us. Fortunately, I’m surrounded by healthcare professionals. My sister is a physician assistant, my brother is a pharmacist by trade, my nursing friends, oh my nursing friends. I have more friends in scrubs and masks than I do White Claw merchandise in my closet. That’s a statement. I received my degree in Advertising, with 15 credits in a science. Chem 101 with Sam Smith is the extent of my “healthcare” knowledge. I rely on my trusted sources to provide the raw reality of the healthcare landscape. I talk to one of my best friend’s, Kayla, once every two weeks (if we’re lucky) because she’s either sleeping when I’m awake or slurping a can of Folgers to finish her rounds. My sister recently experienced one of the worst winter drives home from the clinic at the excuse of “I just need to finish my charts.” She spends her time off behind a computer screen recapping the week of patients while her daughters prance through the living room screaming, “See you at the finish line” courtesy of Barbie Roberts. I’m flabbergasted at the treacherous, burnout atmosphere we, as Americans, expect our essential workers to push through and still provide the best patient care. When did we become so entitled, so heartless? More importantly, how do we fix it?
As I sat in that one stall garage, waiting for my results, I wanted to thank the providers for staying extra late to run a limited test on my young, rather healthy, body. Saying thank you slips under the tongue much like hello or goodbye, I wanted to do something more. To scrub up and walk my own legs down the road to waiting patients in the negative temperatures. To answer the busy phone and write down monotonous symptoms. To remove the fear from their face when they deliver another positive case. Obviously, I couldn’t. My clearance is writing witty words in a 140-character count on Twitter. Even after all the deaths, all the heart-wrenching stories, all the panic, we are still bogged down in political propaganda. We are focused on vaccine mandates, CDC intentions, and conspiracy theories when we should be utilizing our time to give patience and grace to the people who swaddle us. To focus on the facts before us which is healthcare heroes are underappreciated.
Return the favor.
When I’m able, I want to give back to the staff who helped me. I want to bring them cookies, or coffee, or Dollar General Vaseline Chapsticks (man, I love that stuff). Anything to show my appreciation besides “thank you”. Return the love and affection that you received. Pass the peace. Give our healthcare heroes a break and meet people where they are. That goes for our teachers too, but I’ll save that for another blog.
Stay healthy, friends.
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