I am disgusted by how many people, particularly fellow medical students, are capitalizing on COVID by "doing" so many things and starting so many organizations for which they'll mobilize other students for their own glory. It disgusts me. As time goes on, these endeavors multiply. I can already imagine these people during interviews explaining, "During the COVID19 outbreak I started up *blah blah blah*". I'm not impressed. It's a place where I see so much capitalization of other's suffering.
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As I sit at home for what feels like the umpteenth day, I feel complaints bubbling to my lips. It feels like my routine is monotonous, my daily accomplishments are superficial, and my energy feels confined, cooped-in. I thought today about how there is so much privilege in being able to quarantine. I have a home to call my own, enough food (and money for grocery delivery) to last for a while, and frankly plenty of indoor tech to keep me occupied. It’s also a blessing to continue to be a student at this time in a world where much of my learning can still happen online. There are so many whose livelihood and productivity aren’t tied to their computers and for them, the world might have grinder to a halt. I also think about how this disease ultimately is spread the farthest by the privileged- people who can travel internationally- while the burden will still ultimately fall on the poor. So for today, I remind myself to see my boredom from comfort as a reflection of my fortune.
My brain has entertained me with a steady flow of questions to mull over, to turn inside out over and over again until I cannot think anymore. I will let you chew on them instead:
1. How many days will it take until the words “coronavirus” or “pandemic” or “COVID” are no longer mentioned daily. Months? Years? 2. When will I be able to take public transportation, or push open a public door and not momentarily consider the germs that reside on that surface? When can I sneeze in public without a stink eye thrown my way? 3. What will the healthcare profession look like after this? Will we emerge stronger in our successful triumph over the virus? Or perhaps we will emerge defeated, unable to have contained the destruction? 4. What will the DSM-6 look like? Will there be a COVID-related psychiatric diagnosis? One that is a combination of social isolation, hypochondria, and agoraphobia? Accomplishments: running more (and more consistently) than I ever thought I could. Actually self-studying every day. Making coffee for myself in the morning. Being cheerful and present for Zoom calls, even if that’s not how I feel; ultimately, we are all at our core sad and shaken and surprised and disappointed and lonely (but even though that is the baseline, that weight shouldn’t be dragged on the floor from call to call. We know already.) Thinking deeply about my impending leadership role with one of my extracurriculars and coming up with solutions to make transition as smooth as possible. In the same vein, reminding myself that there is a future after this. Areas of improvement: Breathing deeply- and then biting my tongue- in response to Facebook posts that emphasize name-calling and blaming as a way of coping with coronavirus. Being better about doing assigned online work instead of letting it pile up. Being more patient. Turning off Facebook and Instagram for a moment instead of constantly comparing myself to my incredibly talented and proactive colleagues. Accepting that this way of living is shitty instead of constantly looking for ways to measure it up to the real-life business of living and breathing and laughing and loving in person. Accepting that we are all doing our best.
How the fuck did this thing get so big? Where did it come from? How do all of the other viruses of the world suppress and get squashed by the weight of human routine and business as usual and get-fluids-and-plenty-of-rest-and-it's-only-the-flu?
I'm scared. And I'm even more scared that no one has answers to these questions- answers with teeth that sink in to the meat of the uncertainty and tear it to digestible pieces. This virus has really changed my perception of what is “mandatory.” Assignments that were mandatory now fall flat- I suppose I have to spend time doing them, but it is unclear to what end. Meetings that seem mandatory have dissolved. Everything that stressed me out- having a nonprofit board meeting the day before my shelf exam, juggling my extracurricular advocacy activities during my surgery rotation, worrying about being out of touch before entering an OR again for the first time- evaporated. These worries were replaced by new fears which feel less self-centered and more abstract: if my parents get sick, will I be able to take care of them? What kind of medical system will we enter when this is over? When does this all end? Will I see the people I care about by the end of this? Will any young person I know get sick?
To some extent, this has made me think really hard about how much I take for granted in everyday life, and how much of my existence is consumed by selfish and ultimately trivial worries. I will resolve to be more present and generous with my time and love to everyone around me. I will resolve to be more grateful for the experiences I have in the physical company of others. I will resolve to be more gracious towards anyone in the service industry, both because they deserve it as people and because this time is harder on them than most. I will resolve to touch people with tenderness, and to really be grateful for the ability I have to express love in this way, as a healthy person in healthy times (hopefully sooner rather than later). Today is day 3? 4? of social isolation at home. It is surreal to live in a world where all humans I see or hear about are talking about one singular thing. We all seem to have our own lenses to apply to this singular Thing. Today I read a social media post from a first-generation college senior who was heartbroken to hear that her graduation ceremony was canceled. For her, this meant an opportunity for her immigrant parents to see the fruits of their labor and her labor. I saw another post from a young person insistent on their spring break plans not being canceled. For this person, there was frustration over what likely seems like hysteria. I've seen a number of posts from "secretly" immunocompromised friends of mine, who solemnly shared the ways they have always moved about this world for fear of an infection as mundane (to the rest of us) as the flu. I saw posts from folks who work in the service industry, and talked on the phone to a friend of mine concerned about making rent for the next month in New York City. The lens that I realize I have been seeing this from is a public health professional and (maybe unfairly, I haven't decided yet) from a medical professional. My posts skew towards information heavy. My thoughts are about systems malfunctioning, about resource allocation, about constellations of symptoms and what they mean. I've become hyperaware of my body and the bodies of my family members, constantly scanning all of us for a sign of this Thing. A grim silver lining of this whole thing is that in a very real sense I feel part of this huge community of medicine outside of school. I feel that my personal and professional identity are coming together more than I expected. It's frustrating to know that despite feeling this way, I know that trainees take up a lot of (emotional, physical) space in the hospital. I hope we can help. I don't know what we can do, and I know that I don't know enough. But I hope we can try.
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