Modern culture taught us “to explore the unknown, think outside the box and push the boundaries”.
Then the unknown came to our doorstep uninvited and wreaked havoc. The COVID19 pandemic tore into every city, every hospital and every home. We all lost the comfort of a normal life.
Suddenly, I miss the mundane routine of everyday life. As a working mother, I had adjusted to a comfortable daily routine. I wake up early, pray, respond to important emails, surf the net and check out notifications on social media. Then the kids wake up and the pace picks up: brush your teeth, have your breakfast, don’t forget your lunch box, here’s your weekly allowance, return your library books, grab your swimming kit..and then we are all out the door.
As a physician, there was a comfortable routine at the hospital as well: finding a parking for the car, picking up coffee & tea and meeting in my boss’s office. We’d joke about something we saw on TV or discuss an interesting case in his cramped office. Then we separate and follow the same predictable schedule: it’s time for cathlab, rounds, clinic, or office work. Suddenly, I miss reviewing key performance indicators and writing memos.
The comfort of routine was lost everywhere. The kids are home getting virtual schooling. I leave in the morning all alone and I have to remember to take only the basic ID card, keys and phone. The streets are empty, but the parking lot isn’t. I get into the office and think: I better call home & make sure the kids are awake. I better make sure the internet is working at home. I better make sure my youngest didn’t forget how to log into class.
At work, there’s a lot of hand washing and masks. We don’t meet in a cramped office anymore to giggle before we start our busy day. The schedule isn’t predictable either. It can change sometimes twice in one day as one staff member after the other is sent into isolation.
There’s an emotional toll that comes with this change. I find myself forced to reassure younger staff members, sending daily reminders on distancing & doffing and donning and insisting that exposure protocols are reviewed again and again. I go home and distance; no hugs & no interaction. With my youngest everyday it’s the same: no, no I need to shower first. And his reply is the same: still..I thought we were done with that. At home, everyone is waiting for 3:30pm..that’s when the Ministry of Health releases the daily statistics. That’s when all the groups on my phone are buzzing. Everyone wants to analyse and suggest and recommend. I check social media and it’s the same. The discussions are all about COVID19. No one is talking about something funny they saw on TV anymore. Spain’s trajectory is climbing.. oh no now it’s New York. This patient died. This healthcare worker tested positive and this other one died. The stories strike a nerve; the one that gave me pause for days was this: intubating a colleague. I remember sitting in surgery class as a medical student a long time ago and the professor looked around and started counting the women. Then she said: “at least one of us in this room will likely develop breast cancer”. We all looked at each other in shock and fear; we all wondered which one of us. I forgot that day. So much time had lapsed and so much has happened in my life. But COVID19 reminded me of that dreadful sinking feeling I felt on that day in general surgery class. When I walk down the halls of the hospital and pass by a colleague, I ask myself will it be me or her next?
And suddenly the normalcy of a mundane routine life is soothing..I want routine back.
Interventional Cardiologist 