Tag Archives: Masks

An open letter to my health care providers: you are irreplaceable.

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As you know, I’m in a health crisis. You are one of many professionals who are applying their skills, expertise, experience, and knowledge to helping me get through this. I appreciate you more than words can convey. Your care is the difference between life and death for me.
And I’m worried about you.
Many of you are not taking the pandemic seriously. You act like it is over and talk about it in the past tense. Covid, that is SARS-CoV-2, is a Level 3 biohazard, like tuberculosis. It is spread through the air like smoke. Once you get it, it often presents as a cold or flu, but it is so much more. It is a vascular disease. It potentially affects every part of your body, every organ (including your brain), your blood, and your immune system. It has long-lasting effects that we are only beginning to understand. There are a plethora of peer reviewed studies examining the harm that Covid can cause. For years now, some have suggested Long Covid could be a mass disabling event. It already is. Over three million Canadians have already experienced symptoms of Long Covid. Many people with Long Covid cannot work. The first major study of doctors with Long Covid in Britain reveals it has impacted the respondents’ ability to work and to carry out regular day-to-day activities. Almost one in five said they were no longer able to work because of their post-covid ill-health.
You are around sick people all the time. I urge you to wear a good mask, that is, a respirator. Yes, it would help me, but again, I am also worried about you. You are so important. So few people can do what you do. It takes years of training and practice and hard work. You studied for years to be able to do this. Your knowledge is so needed right now. And you are irreplaceable. Irreplaceable.
I have conversations with those of you who are obviously dedicated to protecting yourselves from Covid. You wear respirators and some of you wear face shields too. I appreciate the care you are taking. Some of you only work nights now or take only occasional shifts. Some of you have left full time employment. This is a huge loss for those of us who need you, but I understand. And I support you. It is safer. As one of you said, you have to protect yourself and your family.
Some of you wear the masks that your employer provides. They are better than nothing, and I appreciate the effort. But often they are not N95. They are not respirators. Maybe your employer, the health region, the hospital, the doctor’s practice, could provide better respirators.
Even though in my region, there is currently a mask mandate in all patient areas in hospitals, everyone behaves differently. Some of you introduce yourself and take a breath, peel off your mask for a second so I can see your face, and put your mask back on. I understand why you are doing that, but you don’t have to. I can see what’s going on in your eyes.
Some of you, particularly those at intake desks, still think being behind a clear plastic barrier is enough. It is not. Air travels over, under, and around these barriers and Covid travels in the air.
Some of you pull down your mask when we get into an important conversation, a life and death conversation, or when you are trying to make sure I understand you. Don’t worry: I can understand you through your mask.
Some of you wear masks in the hospital but not in your offices.
Some of you don’t wear them at all.
Masking is a vital part of infection control. It is a vital part of protecting yourself.
You are irreplaceable to me, as your patient, and to your other patients. There is no one else who knows what you know the way that you know it. No one else has your exact experience.
You are even more irreplaceable to your families and your loved ones. Irreplaceable.
I’m going to say something wild here: I love you. All of you. Even the bossy nurse whose poor mask wearing set the tone for the rest of the medical staff in that unit and left everyone less safe. Even you. You obviously have skills. You were the one who got everyone’s questions. You were the one who knew how everything worked. You are so important. We can’t lose you. Please, wear a mask. You are needed. You are irreplaceable. You are loved.
With gratitude and respect,
Your patient,
Jane

Oh My Heart—And Yours

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I recently received inevitable bad news. Twentyish years ago, when I was treated for cancer, I had chemotherapy and radiation. Everyone thinks chemo is hard (and it is) but radiation is also a very big deal. Radiation affected my heart and lungs. I have worked hard over the years to keep my cardio strength up. But I can’t keep ahead of it anymore. Radiation has calcified my aortic heart valve. I will undergo open heart surgery in the spring to replace it.

(I’m begging you, please don’t send medical advice.)

I’m ok. I’ve always known this was a possibility. I plan on living through it. I’m grateful to all the people who gave me this last twenty years. I got to see my wonderful child grow up and become the most superb adult.

And let’s face it, when I’m given that long list of side-effects and asked if I understand, what I hear is “Do I want to die now or later?” My answer is always, “Later.” I have a feeling I’m about to sign off on another bunch of those.

I have things I say about this turn of events. “The chickens have come home to roost,” is one. When I’m feeling slightly bitter, I might say, “Cancer: the gift that keeps on giving.” And now, a new one via my friend Marnie, whose parter has had open heart surgery twice: “It sounds dramatic, but remember, for the surgeon, it’s their Tuesday morning.” Good perspective. Thanks for that, Marnie.

I will stay in the hospital for seven to ten days. There are a lot of things to worry about and contracting covid shouldn’t be one of them. Currently, there is a mask mandate for hospital workers in my jurisdiction, but who knows if it will still exist in the spring.

I honestly don’t know what kind of monster would visit a cardiac ICU without a mask on. Or any part of a hospital.

Can you imagine having that covid cough after your sternum has been cracked open? I can’t.

This is where you come in.

I hear people lamenting the state of the world. It is lamentable. They ask, “What can I do?”  Whatever the issue is that you are lamenting, the answer is to take action. Action (hopefully informed action) fends off depression, for one thing. It’s great for that. It gives you a sense of control and gets you out of your own head, often because you are helping other people.

If you are concerned about the suffering and sickness all around you, the first and easiest action you can take to lessen it is to wear a mask. I’m going to say something harsh here. Get ready. If you are not willing to wear a mask, take a hard look at yourself. You really don’t care about the sickness and suffering all around you.

I cannot think of a situation that is not made worse by the pandemic and that would not be eased if SARS-C0V-2 were brought under control. Palestinians are getting covid while being bombed to near oblivion. But if genocide is your goal, covid is your helper. Climate disasters are made worse by people getting covid. Any illness or weakness you have lurking in your body is made worse by this vascular disease that can affect every organ in your body, including your brain. The decimation of your immune system means you will be sick more often. These are all known things. Get your head out of the sand and do some reading.

I’ve been wearing a mask since the beginning. It’s part of my life now. It is my normal. It is me, living with covid.

I am no longer willing to cut people with privilege and means any slack on this. If you are unaware of the criminal obfuscation going on around the airborne nature of this disease by public health and our so called leaders, it is because you don’t want to be aware of it. That’s on you. I wash my hands of you (knowing that hand-washing doesn’t do much to stop covid.) And if you are one of those public health people or alleged leaders, start doing your job. Start with distributing free masks. Then work on cleaning indoor air in public spaces you are responsible for.

I’ll still be active here. I’ll continue to talk about covid, about this new foray into the heart of me, and I’ll carry on with The Grim Reader. The pandemic and covid are conjoined twins of disaster. It’s important we keep trying our best.

And for those of you who will newly mask or mask again, thank you. For those who never stopped, thank you. We are all connected. We can’t ever forget that.