A integrity stirring pandemic

 

Another ‘ahead of print’ issue was out. I used to be keenly scanning it for my article. There it was! Following obvious thing to try to would be to proclaim this exciting news on all conceivable social media channels, ‘humbly’ exhibiting my scientific and fictional skills, pleased with my name leading the ornamented list of authors.

 

“One more,” I said, as I silently acknowledged the pandemic for turning an uncommon year, clinically speaking, into an equally creative academic one. From the time COVID-19 has professed an epidemic, the speed at which I even have churned academic articles is probably only second to the speed of the virus infection itself. Adding my two cents to the tutorial discourse around psychological state issues stemming from COVID-19, I even have rightfully earned my share of the pandemic pie as a young researcher.

 

With endless concepts and theories, innumerable correlations and associations, COVID-19 statistics have accumulated faster than researchers can digest. As a medical professional, I witnessed an unprecedented quest to find out, write, explore and obtain to the rock bottom of each possible angle associated with the pandemic. 

Specialties and duties have blurred: whilst a psychiatrist, I discuss the viral structure, my pathologist friend comments on the behavioral effects of the virus, while virologist’s debate on treatment protocols. We are all involved in COVID-duty. COVID-19 has been an excellent leveler: first, it renamed physicians and healthcare workers as “front-liners” imposing an enhanced sense of responsibility also as perceived stigma about them; second, it created almost universal expertise about the virus.

 

Information became an important commodity. Almost everyone knew something about the outbreak, and none wanted to miss the prospect to display that knowledge. Definitely not I, the pandemic added publications to my credit, and that I was secretly enjoying the closure of out-patient departments.

 

Busy in such self-obsessive cogitations that stemmed from the freshly imprinted publication, I didn’t hear my beeper ring twice, then thrice. Finally, an irritated nurse within the ER muttered something that seemed like “clinical duties first importance”. 

Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of my ‘ahead of print wonderland’, to listen to some shocking news that made me dash to the COVID-designated ward. I barely had time to slide into the private Protective Equipment (PPE) as I digested the knowledge – a famous business tycoon’s son had succumbed to the infection. 

Management of such ‘high profile’ cases is usually a nuisance, and throughout my graduation years, I wanted we had a chapter dedicated within the medical curriculum to the present lesser discussed challenge of the practice. I trooped into the ward like an astronaut, media persons waiting outside to be informed.

 

COVID-19 deaths have extra formalities to require care of. I met my masked and suited generations, each clumsy in their ‘gas chambers’, and visibly edgy because the manufacturer’s family and followers waited outside. I used to be the giving resident accountable of the enduring the week before, and hence my presence was necessary for the last ‘medical rites’. India’s price had just crossed one lakh, and that i was trying to guess what number would be assigned to the present death, all the while impatient to urge back to my just published paper.

 

Once we heralded 2020 amid celebrations, did we all know that quite two million folks wouldn't see another new year?

 

As a psychiatrist, communicating with patients and their families may be a large part of my job. I prepared for the following tough dialogue with the bereaved family. The daddy and therefore the uncle was waiting outside the ward, surrounded by relations during a distinct circle, beat PPE, masks, and gloves. For a second, I mistook them for physicians. Then I realized that the circle was to make sure social distancing from potential infection carriers like me.

 

A decoratively rehearsed explanation of the death has always fallen short during such tête-à-têtes. In what appeared like a really lengthy discussion, the family wanted to understand precautions for the future (do we'd like to fumigate the house?), pondered over possible instances of transmission by their now-dead kin, and therefore the statistical chances of them being infected already. 

The concerns seemed a touch illogical to me considering a paid caregiver was responsible all this while. As a matter of courtesy, I asked if they wanted to possess a final glance at their loved one through the COVID-ICU window. They appeared to tighten the circle and left abruptly saying the cremation formalities would be handled by a separate team. I felt pitying the young man, who was accorded a star status within the hospital till yesterday. His corpse had no such privilege.

 

I was going back to the ward when someone tugged at my PPE. A boy, maybe all of 5, during a tattered T-shirt and barely anything below the waist, was standing there, right next to the infectious diseases ward without a mask or gloves! Before I could respond, a hospital guard came running, say sorry for the transgression, “Sorry Sir, I attempted my best, this fellow just ran past me”. 

Cautious of guarding the kid against any possible infection from my PPE, I stepped back, crouched, and asked him what he wanted. He was sniffling and mumbled something within the local language pointing towards the overall ward. He had come trying to find his father, another COVID-19 fatality. 

He lived within the slum next to the hospital. The motherless child wasn't allowed to remain together with his father and his plan to bypass the hospital guards succeeded only today when it had been too late.

 I explained to him that it had been risky being near the COVID-19 ward without protective gear. He smiled, his teeth darker than his skin, and unfolded his little hands to point out a facemask darkened with days of use, strings torn, and various tiny holes on one side. He had exchanged his silver bracelet with an area vendor for this mask and brought it to a close-by temple for prayers. He believed it might protect his father from the killer virus.

 

I don’t skill the guards managed to require care of the kid. I had to go away, breathless and feeling sick. Together, the choke of the PPE, a distended bladder, blurred vision, and a burdened conscience had taken an important toll on me.

 

Half an hour later, I managed to urge back from the reflective phase into being the stoic physician, the iron-willed ‘front-liner’ who has seen it all? Pleased with my unceasing contribution to pandemic literature, I started re-reading with content my latest title: “COVID-19: the good Equalizer”.