I've just spent the last week in isolation in a hospital. I was, thankfully, not there due to COVID-19 but no outside visitors were allowed as a safety precaution. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been hospitalized - once for overnight observation after my SCUBA accident and once over the weekend when my tonsils abscessed. Each time, the stay was made easier by the cheerful faces of family and friends.
This time started much like the visit for my tonsils - I had pain that I sought medical attention to resolve and was blindsided with a much bigger problem than expected. This time, I'd been experiencing pain in my abdomen that steadily got worse until I could no longer sleep or sit comfortably. It felt so much like my gall bladder attacks ten years ago, I wondered if it was possible to develop stones without one. My primary care doctor sent me for a CT scan with contrast where they discovered an abscess in my small intestine. The radiologist was concerned it might be my appendix - and I was really hoping for the trifecta of tonsils, gall bladder, appendix - and called my doctor immediately. They agreed it was a serious cause for concern and told me to get to the ER as quickly as possible.
When I arrived at the ER, the staff asked me the usual questions but also if I'd traveled outside of the country recently or had COVID symptoms. The waiting room was divided up with a giant plastic sheet down the middle. COVID patients sat on one side and everyone else on the other. When it was determined that I would need to be admitted to the hospital, the nursing staff administered a COVID test to determine where I could be placed. They had isolation rooms set up to handle COVID patients on each floor.
First the nurse had to suit up in protective gear - a full cover over her clothes, face shield, gloves, and mask - then she pulled out a long swab with what felt like porcupine bristles on the end. This went up my nose further than I was really comfortable with and I had an involuntary reaction where I pushed the nurses hand away. Which, of course, only meant she had to do it again. This time when they scraped it across my brain I focused all my energy into remaining very still. Within an hour, they had the test results (negative) and I was able to be moved to the seventh floor.
Being admitted to the hospital right now is both the best and worst thing to happen. It's good because you know the doctors and nurses are going to do everything they can to resolve the problem you're having and IF something goes terribly wrong you're in the right place. It's bad because there is the concern for contamination and no visitors are allowed except under the most dire of circumstances. So I was there for the longest stay of my life without much of anything to look forward to.
The nurses had to tend to both COVID and Non-COVID patients, so it took a little longer sometimes for them to answer my call button if they were in an isolation room. This was due largely to the fact that they would have to take off the PPE equipment before they could leave the isolation room and then done a fresh set before entering my room. I never saw the face of anyone that took care of me - they were always wearing a mask and sometimes a protective shield. For my part, I tried to only call when truly needed because I didn't want to add to their burden.
But for everything that the doctors and nurses had to deal with, they were always pleasant and always kind. They explained things clearly and made sure I knew exactly what to expect at all times. My nurses would also try to stay a little longer and chat with me to make sure I was doing okay. They completely understood the healing value of human interaction and tried to compensate for the no visitor policy whenever possible. Some of the staff told me they were isolated from their families, too. Trying to make sure they didn't carry anything home with them at night. So I hope that I was able to help them feel a little more connected too.
My stay in the hospital brought the COVID pandemic into perspective for me. I was already social distancing and wearing my mask, but interacting with the people on the front lines made it real for me in a way that nothing else could. Now that I'm home, I'm continuing to wear my mask and wash my hands. I'm keeping six feet away when I do have to go out, not for me necessarily but for the men and women sacrificing their family time to take care of patients. If I can keep someone else from getting sick and ending up in the hospital, I'll have done my part to make things a little bit easier in this time of COVID.
