From the Front Lines to Peaceful Isolation
The coronavirus pandemic makes me think of the Great Blizzard of
1978. With this pandemic, my husband
Tom and I are doing our part by maintaining a strict isolation. We are staying at home, as far from the problem
as possible, so that those on the front lines – the people who work in health
care – are not hindered by us.
With the Great Blizzard, I was much closer to the front
lines. Although my employer, The Ohio
State University, shut down and cancelled classes for the first time in its
history, the Student Health Center (along with the university hospitals) was
the exception. We, the health center
employees, were told to report to work because an outbreak of influenza had begun
on campus, and sick students were coming to the center in spite of the horrible
wintry weather. I was a student as well, working to put myself through college.
The worst of the storm in Columbus happened overnight, as I
recall. My neighbors and I woke up to about
another foot of snow on the ground, on top of the two feet that were already
there before the storm. Because of the
fierce winds through the night, the snow drifted mightily, making some front
doors impossible to open. Some areas were
hit by winds of 69 to 89 miles per hour, with gusts up to 100mph. Wind chill had reached -60 degrees F.
My home in January 1977, a year before the Great Blizzard.West Second Avenue, Victorian Village, Columbus. |
In the early morning, no cars were on the road. No buses were running. Bicycling was impossible. I dressed warmly, pulled on my boots, and
left the house. I steeled myself to the
thought that I had to walk 1.5 miles in deep snow and bitter cold to get to work!
After slogging through the first half mile up Neil Avenue, I
heard a noise behind me. I turned to see
a car with chains on its tires, moving slowly and steadily up the snowy avenue. The driver stopped, rolled down his window,
and asked if I needed a ride. I could
not believe my luck!
He was a medical student who had to report to work at the
hospitals. He drove me as close as he
could get to the Student Health Center. I
thanked him, and wished him the best. Then
he turned his car toward the hospitals, and I walked the last quarter mile across
a pedestrian-only part of campus to the health center. I never knew his name, but I will never
forget him.
In those days long before desktop computers and digital
records, each sick student had to stop first at the medical records department,
where I worked at a counter and took their intake information. Then I found the student’s medical record and
sent it via pneumatic tube up to the clinic area.
We did not wear masks or gloves. Fortunately, I did not catch the flu. The entire outbreak was not as severe as the public health experts on campus had predicted. That
was probably due to the Great Blizzard, which inflicted some social distancing
and isolation on everyone.
Now during this pandemic, I think of my niece who is a
doctor in Boston, my stepson who is a nurse who runs a nursing home in
Louisville, and my cousin who is a nurse in nursing informatics at a hospital
in Concord, New Hampshire. I think of
all the nurses and doctors who did an amazing job keeping Tom alive at Lee
Memorial Hospital in Fort Myers when he had viral pneumonia in the winter of
2015/2016. All their lives are greatly
affected in this pandemic, in a way that is so chaotic and different from the
way our lives are affected. The contrast
is striking.
I don’t ever want to have to see Tom in an ICU bed again,
but if he needs one, I want one to be there for him. My job, and his, is to make sure he will not
need that ICU bed. That’s what we can do
to help those on the front line now. We
stay home, stay healthy, and have groceries delivered.
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