A short anecdote from my experience during the covid19 pandemic so far titled "Two metres apart "
"TWO METRES APART"
I opened the door to my flat after a tiring, long day at work. “ Babe, I’m home” I said as I entered. “How was your day?” came a voice from the living room. “It was ok, babe. I’ll tell you more in a bit” I said from the doorstep as I stood there performing what had become my evening ritual after work. First, I kept my work bag and coat in a big carry bag and pushed it into a spot at the bottom of a table. Then, I stripped from my scrubs and inserted them into a plastic bag which I then emptied into the washing machine. I would then hop into the shower, and give myself a deep clean which would result in dry, cracked skin over my arms, especially my hands which had already bone the brunt of the incessant hand-washing during the day. After a shower, I would clean my phone with wipes, wash my hand again and rub cream on them. Only after all this, I would walk towards his makeshift work table, and stand there before him asking to be hugged. He would take me in his big arms, hold me tight, pat my head and ask “ Did you have a tough day again?” This was one such day. I told him work had been weird. I had lost a patient- an elderly gentleman who passed away due to covid-19. However, I didn’t cry. He had watched me navigate through my journey in medicine. He had seen the side of me that was the easy going final year medical student and he had also seen the enthusiastic senior house officer working in the NHS. Throughout the years, what had remained constant was that I was an empathetic doctor. I will admit I wasn't the most hard working medical student nor was I the most passionate junior doctor at work. However, I can say from my heart that I felt deeply for my patients. An obvious result of this was that over the years, I had cried for several of my patients. I had become friends with many who eventually died under the care of my team. They would appear in my sleep on some nights. On one night, I had a strange dream where I sensed the body smell of a patient who I had been looking after for several weeks on the elderly care ward. She was ninety six years old and of Indian origin. Since she couldn't communicate with anyone on the ward due to language barriers, I would always offer to readily translate the food menu for her. I would also regularly make her a cup of tea which she preferred to have with six packets of sugar and sit with her and talk to her for a few minutes. She was skinny till her bones and suffered from dementia. She once held on to my hand and cried to me over her lost husband. She asked me if I was married. When I said no, she said “ You should get married...there is nobody else in this world who will be by your side as much as your husband. Look at me, I lost my husband twenty years ago. Ever since that day , It has been a sad life. The children are busy with their lives. Trust, me, nobody is truly there for you other than your life companion. Get married, ok? Good girl.”
After she passed away, I was called to the mortuary to identify the dead body and write the medical certificate of death. When the mortuary officer pulled out the body and unraveled the sheet from her face, a terrible grief overtook me and I burst into tears. A person looks so different when they are dead as compared to when they were alive.This was the first time that I had actually cried while doing this. The officer asked me if she was my relative. I said no, she wasn't, but I had gotten to know her a bit. Several days after, I could still smell her in my dreams occasionally. It wasn’t guilt as I knew she had passed away due to frailty and old age, but for some reason, my patient's death was just a difficult emotion to process for my mind and heart.
Coming back to the elderly gentleman who passed away. I felt odd. This time, I felt like somehow I had let him down although I knew I was not being reasonable, but I couldn't let go of the nagging feeling. This gentleman was already on the “end of life” pathway when I met him. This basically meant that the doctors who had looked after him had come to the realization that he was not responding to medical treatment, was very poorly and henceforth had decided to withdraw treatment. He had “end of life” medications prescribed which helped him with pain, secretions and restlessness which can cause distress to dying patients. On our ward round the previous day, we ensured he looked comfortable, adjusted his medications and moved on to the next patient. I had given a call to his son to give him an update of his condition. He was already aware of his condition as he had been involved in the discussion to provide him palliative care by the medical team . I heard a hopeless voice over the phone as he told me he had just received the death certificate for his mother too who had also passed away due to covid two days ago. The tragedy of the pandemic had affected this family badly as it claimed the lives of both their elderly parents.
A vision came to my mind of both of them being cremated side by side. In the vision, were the faces of their children shocked by what life had hit them with. And there I was, just a junior doctor feeling like I could have done more, but not knowing what. Our masks, gloves and aprons had bridged a gap between our dear patient’s hands and us doctors and nurses. We had been stripped off from the honor of even holding their hands or giving them a hug. I said a silent prayer for their soul to rest in peace as I dreaded what the next few months of this pandemic had in store for us. "Go easy on us, Mother Nature" I prayed as I tried to put my day aside and walked towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
I opened the door to my flat after a tiring, long day at work. “ Babe, I’m home” I said as I entered. “How was your day?” came a voice from the living room. “It was ok, babe. I’ll tell you more in a bit” I said from the doorstep as I stood there performing what had become my evening ritual after work. First, I kept my work bag and coat in a big carry bag and pushed it into a spot at the bottom of a table. Then, I stripped from my scrubs and inserted them into a plastic bag which I then emptied into the washing machine. I would then hop into the shower, and give myself a deep clean which would result in dry, cracked skin over my arms, especially my hands which had already bone the brunt of the incessant hand-washing during the day. After a shower, I would clean my phone with wipes, wash my hand again and rub cream on them. Only after all this, I would walk towards his makeshift work table, and stand there before him asking to be hugged. He would take me in his big arms, hold me tight, pat my head and ask “ Did you have a tough day again?” This was one such day. I told him work had been weird. I had lost a patient- an elderly gentleman who passed away due to covid-19. However, I didn’t cry. He had watched me navigate through my journey in medicine. He had seen the side of me that was the easy going final year medical student and he had also seen the enthusiastic senior house officer working in the NHS. Throughout the years, what had remained constant was that I was an empathetic doctor. I will admit I wasn't the most hard working medical student nor was I the most passionate junior doctor at work. However, I can say from my heart that I felt deeply for my patients. An obvious result of this was that over the years, I had cried for several of my patients. I had become friends with many who eventually died under the care of my team. They would appear in my sleep on some nights. On one night, I had a strange dream where I sensed the body smell of a patient who I had been looking after for several weeks on the elderly care ward. She was ninety six years old and of Indian origin. Since she couldn't communicate with anyone on the ward due to language barriers, I would always offer to readily translate the food menu for her. I would also regularly make her a cup of tea which she preferred to have with six packets of sugar and sit with her and talk to her for a few minutes. She was skinny till her bones and suffered from dementia. She once held on to my hand and cried to me over her lost husband. She asked me if I was married. When I said no, she said “ You should get married...there is nobody else in this world who will be by your side as much as your husband. Look at me, I lost my husband twenty years ago. Ever since that day , It has been a sad life. The children are busy with their lives. Trust, me, nobody is truly there for you other than your life companion. Get married, ok? Good girl.”
After she passed away, I was called to the mortuary to identify the dead body and write the medical certificate of death. When the mortuary officer pulled out the body and unraveled the sheet from her face, a terrible grief overtook me and I burst into tears. A person looks so different when they are dead as compared to when they were alive.This was the first time that I had actually cried while doing this. The officer asked me if she was my relative. I said no, she wasn't, but I had gotten to know her a bit. Several days after, I could still smell her in my dreams occasionally. It wasn’t guilt as I knew she had passed away due to frailty and old age, but for some reason, my patient's death was just a difficult emotion to process for my mind and heart.
Coming back to the elderly gentleman who passed away. I felt odd. This time, I felt like somehow I had let him down although I knew I was not being reasonable, but I couldn't let go of the nagging feeling. This gentleman was already on the “end of life” pathway when I met him. This basically meant that the doctors who had looked after him had come to the realization that he was not responding to medical treatment, was very poorly and henceforth had decided to withdraw treatment. He had “end of life” medications prescribed which helped him with pain, secretions and restlessness which can cause distress to dying patients. On our ward round the previous day, we ensured he looked comfortable, adjusted his medications and moved on to the next patient. I had given a call to his son to give him an update of his condition. He was already aware of his condition as he had been involved in the discussion to provide him palliative care by the medical team . I heard a hopeless voice over the phone as he told me he had just received the death certificate for his mother too who had also passed away due to covid two days ago. The tragedy of the pandemic had affected this family badly as it claimed the lives of both their elderly parents.
A vision came to my mind of both of them being cremated side by side. In the vision, were the faces of their children shocked by what life had hit them with. And there I was, just a junior doctor feeling like I could have done more, but not knowing what. Our masks, gloves and aprons had bridged a gap between our dear patient’s hands and us doctors and nurses. We had been stripped off from the honor of even holding their hands or giving them a hug. I said a silent prayer for their soul to rest in peace as I dreaded what the next few months of this pandemic had in store for us. "Go easy on us, Mother Nature" I prayed as I tried to put my day aside and walked towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
- Dr Prarthana Bhat
( Stories from my experience as a frontline doctor during the covid19 pandemic)
All information has been made anonymous to preserve patient confidentiality
( Stories from my experience as a frontline doctor during the covid19 pandemic)
All information has been made anonymous to preserve patient confidentiality
