I received the emergency call from my superior. She wanted me to report to the hospital right away although it was my day-off. It’s good my mother was living with us. I didn’t need to scramble for a babysitter. She could watch my 5-year old daughter while I was at work. That’s what she’s doing mostly anyway.
We were assembled in the large auditorium of the hospital. All doctors and nurses together. I had been a nurse for three years at Wuhan General Hospital. My mother worked here, too, but she’d been retired when I got pregnant. I was standing close to a woman of same age as me. We started a conversation.
I asked her, “Do you know what’s going?”
“Nope, do you?”
“Not a thing but my superior’s call was urgent.”
“So was I. It must be something big. My name by the way is Dr. Li Ming. I am a gastroenterologist. What’s yours?”
“I’m Nurse Deng Sisi.”
The room suddenly became so quiet. The president of the hospital was standing in front of the auditorium with a microphone about to speak.
“We have a coronavirus spreading quickly in the city. People are getting sick in droves. We are expanding our capacity to accommodate as many as we can. This is an emergency, folks! There’s much expected of us. So I need all of you to do your duty. That’s all and get back to work, now!”
Before I went back to my station, I hugged Dr. Ming and told her to stay safe and keep in touch.
Everybody was working long hours for weeks now. But I still managed to get home on time for dinner. I was about to eat when the sight of food made me feel nauseated. I put it squarely on tiredness. Ever since the start of the outbreak, I had been spending a lot time visiting families of patients and teaching them to disinfect their home.
I went home to take a nap but when I woke up my temperature was running high at 100.4 Fahrenheit. High fever was one of the symptoms of the virus, so were shortness of breath, coughing, lung congestion, and fatigue. I went to see a doctor to be tested and I came positive with the virus. There’s no available space in the hospital so I checked into a hotel to avoid infecting my family.
The following day I was admitted to the hospital. I was getting weaker and weaker by the hour. Since there was no known cure for the virus, the doctors were giving me mostly anti-viral drugs to alleviate my symptoms. The nurse who was looking after me hooked several intravenous drips with nutrients in my veins and also pumped antibodies into my bloodstream, along with the anti-viral medicine.
By day four, I was not getting any better. My fever jumped to 101.3 Fahrenheit. I was vomiting, shivering relentlessly and having diarrhea. The following day I was classified as critically ill. By day 6, I threw up three times and was experiencing hallucinations. I could not smell or taste, and my heartbeat slowed to 50 beats per minute.
Somehow my young body repaired itself and my immune system produced enough antibodies to clear the virus. My fever had receded. This was day 17 and I was on my way to recovery. My throat was swabbed and came back negative for the virus. I was walking in the hallway when I saw a familiar name posted in one of the rooms. Dr. Li Ming was here, too. I asked the nurse what happened to her.
Several weeks ago Dr. Li Ming was having problem breathing and was immediately placed in an isolation ward. After a few days, her fever subsided and she began to breathe more easily when she was attached to a ventilator. She was tested twice and the result came out negative both times. She thought she was on the verge of recovery and texted her colleagues that she would be with the team soon. She chatted with her husband, also a doctor, over a video chat and urged him to carefully protect himself. She promised him as soon as she’s fully recovered, she would be in the front line with him. She made the last call to her mother. She asked her mom to look after her 2-year old son if something bad happened to her.
At 3 am on Day 15, Dr. Lin Ming was rushed to intensive care. The doctors gave her intubation. Nothing was working. They called another major hospital to borrow an extracorporeal membrane oxygenation, or Ecmo, machine to do the work for her heart and lungs. Her heart started beating again but her lungs were failing. Her brain was severely and irreversibly damaged due to lack of oxygen. Her kidneys shut down and she had to be put on dialysis.
I was being released on day 35. But before I left the hospital, I checked Dr. Li Ming’s condition. Her name was gone. I found out she passed away. What could have been a joyous trip back home, I was crying uncontrollably inside the cab. I didn’t feel lucky to be alive.
Two young lives: both fell sick doing their job, but only one survived to answer the call of duty for another day. One family was happy; the other grieving as much – for the young son still wondering when his mom would come home from work, for the husband crying what their future would be without the love of his life, and for the grandmother fulfilling her promise to be a mother again.
When things fall apart, our survival hinges heavily on us being together and helping one another get through this existential threat. So much of our normal lives have been disrupted by COVID-19. Yet there remains in our midst some exemplary and brave souls who continue to do their work to help us survive this pandemic. They are just like us but they make themselves available and thereby have risked their lives in order for us to live. They are our unsung heroes, not for the accolades, but for decency and love of humanity. In the words of Albert Camus through the mouth of Dr. Rieux in The Plague, “…in the never-ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaught, despite their personal afflictions, by all, who, while unable to be saints but refusing to bow down to pestilences, strive their utmost to be healers.”
I salute you for your sacrifices. I sing you praises of gratitude. It’s the least I can do.
Rey Moreno
Pickering, Ontario
May 1, 2020
