For Barb

"Good morning!" I said the my favorite patient, Mrs. Anthony. It was December 22, 2020. I felt so bad she would have to be away from her family during the holidays, alone in the cold, stark room with only a single window looking to the outside world.

Mrs. Anthony had put up one hell of a fight the month prior to her arrival. Once she had weaned from the ventilator, Barb was able to move to the rehab where I worked. We were going to get her stronger so she get back home to her big, loving family. They missed her terribly.

Barb was frail, with labored breathing and gaunt figure, but still bright in the eyes. She smiled as I entered the room, knowing my presence meant she would get to see her loved ones, even if it was only through facetime. I was happy to do these facetimes. It was the one thing that kept me going through the pandemic- knowing I could provide people ease and relief by connecting them to their mother, grandmother, and sister, after countless days and nights of not seeing her. I had a purpose during this horrific pandemic and the during monotony and struggle of everyday life in healthcare.

I held the phone up for Barb, my goggles fogging ever so slightly before I repositioned. She was so happy when she saw her children on the other line. She fidgeted with her short, gray, hair, then rolled her eyes knowing it was no use. I positioned her glasses better over the bridge of her nose.

They showed her the Christmas tree in the background, filled with homemade ornaments crafted by multiple grandchildren through the years. Her husband of sixty-two years told her how much he loved her and how beautiful she looked. It was the same sentence every time. Her daughter panned the living room so that she could see her beloved rescue dogs awaiting her arrival back home. Her two sons were always the last to speak- closing the call with their plans for her return and more I love you's.

I patiently waited for everyone to say their goodbyes, then hung up the phone. "Okay, Barb. Do you need anything else?"

Mrs. Anthony grabbed my hand, looked long into my eyes, but didn't say anything. It seemed strange- the long stare. I made sure her oxygen was on- 4 liters was a major improvement. I positioned her call light to where she could reach it, then assured her I would be back in the morning for another call. Barb took a deep breath, then nodded her head and closed her eyes, as if the relief of knowing another family call would happen could let her rest easy.

"Get some rest," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

But I never did. Barb passed away two hours after I left. Her nurse later told me that after her six week battle with COVID 19, her heart finally gave out. I was done. Over it. No more. I couldn't take anymore loss. Over the last few months, there had been so much death. So much death. And Barb's was the final straw.

I spent the next week mourning the loss of my patient. I mourned for her family and friends, and even watched her funeral service via zoom. I had only known her a short time, but she was my favorite. She was so loved.

January 1 eventually came. A new year. Finally and end to the hellacious 2020. I thought long and hard and decided that Barb's death would not be in vain. None of the patient's I had seen pass away would be forgotten. I would find a way to live my life on purpose and exactly how I wanted. I would find a way out of healthcare.

I signed up for a hot yoga membership. It is my favorite workout to date, and I believe ridding myself of everyday toxins can also release the emotional baggage that has accumulated over the last few months. I found a therapist, and started seeing her on a regular basis. I am trying to fend off the upcoming PTSD I'm sure is hunting me, waiting to pounce after the pandemic has subsided. I am reading self help books, researching women's retreats, and constantly thanking God for my healthy family. I set my alarm an hour before my husband and children wake up to partake in a quiet devotional and meditation each morning, setting my intent for the day. And I started writing. I write every chance I can. If I can't write during the day, I try to write at night. I am working on a novel, short stories, articles- anything to get it out. Anything to release the pains of 2020 and attempt to rebuild a better self.

I have decided 2021 will be a year of release from all that has happened in 2020. I will release the pain of what I have seen- of sickness, death, loss, loneliness, fear, financial struggle. And I will better myself by nurturing my soul, as life is even more precious than I had ever realized before. I will earnestly practice gratitude. There will be more yoga, more therapy, more writing, and more time spent with family and loved ones. I will do this in honor of my patients. I will do this in honor of myself. I will do this in honor of Barb.