55 WORD STORIES

Jello

I am caring for a sick man.
His husband isn’t allowed in.
Sars-cov2 doesn’t accept any visitors.
I wish I knew him better.
Uncertainly I ask, “What is his favorite food?”
“Red or orange jello.”
Six weeks later, I haven’t found an obituary.
And I still can’t remember, if he liked red or orange jello.

by Bhargavi Chekuri, Resident/Fellow

 

Then, Now, Later

Frustrated with ignorance.
Anger toward liars.
Impatient with waiting.
Joy diminished from isolation.
European vacation cancelled.
So my treehouse rises from the ashes of those other dreams since evaporated.
It will be a retreat, to be shared when we are whole.

by Tom Booze, Nurse

 

Useless

Zoom. Computer screen. iPad to the side.
Don’t forget your blue-blocking lenses.
“Clinical experiences have been suspended
– indefinitely”

Immunosuppressed.
That’s probably for the best.

But how can I help?
How can I help if I am stuck behind this screen?
Are we even really a part of things?
It’s hard to feel like learning anything.

by Tiffani Lautenslager, Medical Student

 

Poem for an Empire in its last stages (NB: revolutionaries wanted!)

Fat cats fast-track upwards great wealth,
Starve those whose sweat produced it first,
Insist “you all get back to work,
The market must sustain its burst!”

Cosmetic change to Washington,
Daily we’re numbed to the list of dead.
Blank checks for execs who’ve unbound greed.
While we forego last rites or bread.

Revolution is coming.

by Vivek Jain, Resident/Fellow

 

Still Haunted

I’m an ER RN, in a different hospital system, near Mexico where the surge was brutal.
I read your thoughts typed here, they console in a way. My hospital has done nothing for our mental health, nothing to acknowledge what we’ve done.
I’m still scared.
We all are.
It was so horrible.
The first surge has passed. I’m doing better, but dreading the winter, the second wave.

Sometimes I wake up coughing. Sometimes I fall asleep nervous.
Sometimes I’m worried I’m drinking too much.

by Anonymous, Nurse

 

Robbed

Countless patients with advanced cancer have told me they feel robbed of time due to the COVID-19 pandemic. They are unable to complete their bucket-list items such as travel. They are isolated from family and friends they may never see again. Their pain is palpable, and there is little I can do to comfort them.

by Kathy Plakovic, Nurse Practitioner

 

Essential Thank You

Someone at the grocery store stopped me today and thanked me for my service to the community by going to work during this pandemic.
My service?
I never thought of myself as “essential” or important.
I never thought of myself as “serving” others by going to work.
Going to work is just something people do.

I’m thankful to be recognized. It feels nice to be told I’m important.

But I hope that other essential workers (bus drivers and grocery store workers and custodians and retail workers) are being thanked too. I hope that everyone who is working is being treated with the kindness and appreciation I have experienced as a healthcare worker.

Others are essential and others are serving too.

by Anonymous, Nurse

 

Thoughts of an MS3

I normally feel a little useless in the hospital. I feel particularly useless completing my internal medicine rotation from the comfort of my couch, watching my baby play on the ground. I’m torn between wanting to help and enjoying the extra time at home. Back to cuddles and coronary artery disease.

by Hannah Glasgow, Medical Student

 

The Siren Call

A siren blares nearby and my first reaction is relief and comfort that a person in distress is getting to the ED, a fire is being quenched, a person in need of help is getting that help. I am white. It is not the sound of terror that it is for black and brown people.

by Lu Marchand, Attending Physician

 

Snapshot

inside the PAPR a lifeless wind assaults my ears limply
You lay there disconnected, reduced by a thief.
I struggle with these cheap gloves , I’m covered
I’m covered. I am deliberate and ridiculous.
Is this a dream? I will fly or wake up breathless.
Your minute volume finite . Soon inevitable silence.
We are so reduced.

by Anonymous, Critical Care RN

 

Warnings and Ignorings

Going to work at 5 in the morning
Knowing the whole world is in mourning
My partner and I continue working
While COVID-19 threatens, lurking
Understanding what’s right, my mask I am donning
People are not taking seriously the warning
The long road ahead still is going
No mask! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

by Anonymous, Patient Services Specialist

 

orange u tired?

sometimes, or more often than not…I wish people would just quiet down about politics, religion, the who’s and the what’s.

just silence yourself for a second and breathe deep.

if we are seattle strong, then be it.
if we are in this together, then act like it.
if we really care about the earth then leave it a better place than it was before.

by Anonymous, Lab Staff

 

It’s Sometimes Hard

It’s sometimes hard,
To accept an offered mask, offered food, and offered sympathy;
I am “essential”,
But not useful.

It’s sometimes hard,
To see my colleagues struggle, patients struggle, the world struggle;
I am “essential”,
But I cannot ease their burden.

It’s sometimes hard,
To not feel like a fraud, to believe I can make a difference,
I am “essential”,
I am Here,
But I do not believe I am helping.

By Anonymous

 

The New Normal

Catching a peek of my love snoozing lightly, I prance into our bedroom after being away for 14 hours.
He turns to me eyes half lidded shut with a half grin, half annoyed look.
We eat breakfast together.
I lay nestled in my fetal cocoon listening to my husband’s meetings, sometimes muted with his music playing in the background. The dull laptop dings soothe me to sleep as I try to phase out the sounds of alarms from the night.

He does dishes, prepares and packs my dinner for the night shift, gathers my work bag, fills my water bottle and coffee mug. We have our tea and snack together.

The clock approaches 6:30, and I must go.

May eternal happiness and light be with you my love, my hero, my non front line husband for your support during these trying times.

By Nisha, Nurse

 

The Corona

“Are you gonna get the Corona?”
For seven years old, viruses are magical and terrifying.
Around the world, people are sick and dying.

Will you get sick at work? Dr. Seuss-like aliens not seen to eyes. Infectious spheres with spikes like unicorns. Dancing around me each day I carefully put on and take off PPE.

By Hannah Johanson, Nurse

 

In Awe of the Draw

print orders
pick up tubes

don PPE
enter the room
draw the blood
feel forgotten when
waiting to be guided out.
respirator: hard to breathe
fogged up shield: hard to see
exit the room
deepen your breath
relax

drop off samples at the lab
rinse and repeat
for the next timed draw.

By Anonymous, Medical Technologist

 

Snapshot

inside the PAPR a lifeless wind assaults my ears limply
You lay there disconnected, reduced by a thief.
I struggle with these cheap gloves , I’m covered
I’m covered . I am deliberate and ridiculous.
Is this a dream? .i will fly or wake up breathless.
Your minute volume finite . Soon inevitable silence.
We are so reduced.

By Anonymous, Critical Care RN

 

Silent Witness

She says “I love you”; he responds “I’ve had a good life.” I stand, silent witness, holding the screen for my dying patient. Tears fall but I can’t brush them away behind my face shield. I never knew the most important thing I would do as an ICU nurse would be to hold an iPad.

By Nicole Schoen, Nurse

 

Weary

A meeting was called my Manager said that all Managers were to leave and work from home until further notice,leaving the Employees to stay and keep our 24/7 hour Emergency Mental Health Department staffed. We can’t use any sick time just vacation time to get off. We are considered Essential,it must mean Expendable.

Registration, Support Staff

By Dorothea Farmer, Registration

 

Trying for a cathartic shower

Trying for a cathartic shower
Tears mixing with shower water
Mascara streaks
Crouching in the corner

Instead

It’s nice to be alone
The hot water feels good
And washes away the virus
Down the drain

By Anonymous, Attending Physician

 

change

i missed when the world changed. lost in a tiny human’s brightening eyes and brand new never before seen smiles and consumed by her helplessness, i am still in the before. the world i know is not the world she will know and the uncertainty of what i will come back to is breathtaking. i don’t know how to prepare. i worry for my colleagues, mourn for our patients and community, and am guiltily grateful to get to stay in the before for a few more weeks – the glimpses of the now seem like a terrible dream.

By Anonymous, Hospitalist

 

Grateful

I am grateful that my family is able to stay home.
We are together and all working or going to school at home.
I am grateful that I can still continue my education.
Online holds many challenges, luckily my instructors are amazing.
I am grateful that I am healthy and able to practice social distancing.

By Star Sakis, Physician Assistant, Student

 

Information Overload

I read today about information overload, cutting down on news apps etc. yesterday I felt defeated and exhausted by Information overload right here in HMC clinic. everyday something different, everyday something new to learn. Our leaders need to understand that during stress people often feel overwhelmed with new information or new things to be learned. I have to say I looked to my leaders for support I felt it lacking or not genuine.

By Anonymous, Patient Care Coordinator

 

Removed

Feeling removed… relocated just as the crisis and social distancing emerged. Left good friends behind. No meetings here to meet people. Are we doing enough for the frontline risk-takers from our support department?

Learning the amazing culture of my new work home. There is purpose here; worthwhile work; and everyone is making a difference.

By Bonnie Beardsley, Support Staff

 

Time(ing)

My partner, my friends

Mostly Artists which means mostly Service Workers
Laid off, they lack funds but are abundant in time
Time for virtual happy hours and pop-up performances, laughter and creating new rituals
I am Essential, working long and proud
I have my job
What I lack is my community-of-heart
I’m lucky, but lonely

By PG, Support Staff

 

Air Supply

“All out of love” sounds from the hilltop.
My son, plucking dandelions, poking freshly drowned earthworms, looks up from the grass. A figure appears: masked, hooded, with reflective goggles and a speaker in hand. It waves.
“Monster!” my son points and runs away.
He has learned to fear our neighbors. Keeps everybody safe, for now.

By Kalyan Banda, Attending Physician

 

I can hear you

In transcription it is not a direct communication but we have always appreciated hearing “have a nice day” or “thanks for your help” because it means you know a person is there listening to you. I become real for you.

Reading these stories, it helps me to hear you better, as I recognize names and appreciate the feelings shared and work that you do that doesn’t always show up in the dictation. Thank you for becoming real to me.

By Lori Wilkinson, Transcription

 

Ghosted

We’re days away from the “surge,” and the hospital is a ghost town – existing wards closed, and extra ones planned. We have bed capacity for COVID-19. But what about our other patients? Are you no longer getting chest pain? No longer needing detox? No longer sick at dialysis? Where are you? Are you okay?

By Allyson Goldberg, Attending Physician

 

Waiting

My daughter hangs upside-down in a tree.
I wait for the fall.
I wait, like last week in hospital,
eerily devoid of visitors,
for Covid patients.
Will they overwhelm,
or will we “flatten the curve”?
I wait while balancing roles —
parent, doctor, teacher —
and hope we have saved lives.
She lands feet first.

By Kimberly Collins, Attending Physician

 

New Morning Rituals at a Level I Trauma Center

The MASH tent has been erected outside our front door.

Our daily Discharge Team prayer circle
Where, for the last year, and
Up until the last month-

We held hands and gave gratitude for our lives, asked for guidance in our actions, prayed for kindness despite our weariness, and the wisdom to remove barriers to discharge,

This prayer circle has mutated along with the virus.
“Essential Staff” cannot hug,
Or hold hands
During prayer
But we can still gather.

By Pamela Brucks, MN, RN

 

Running Short

It sat partially covered & unassuming. My resident and I both noticed it right away. The recycled bottle of hand sanitizer that our pharmacy had remixed and relabeled with prescription information. The fear that we had run out. The proof that we could make our own.

By Jennifer M Erickson, DO

 

Shout-out

I would like to thank nurses, who spend more time bedside than I do. For your wellbeing, too, I obsess over my orders. You collect our precious (cough-inducing) tests, and you’ve called more bereaved families. Despite your fear, your compassionate professionalism – today, like any day – inspires me and makes me grateful. Thank you.

By Anonymous, Attending Physician

 

Moving Community Support

I worked a voluntary shift screening patients at the ED entrance. The experience was extremely rewarding. I was moved, seeing people come to Harborview to support the medical community by bringing N95 masks, gloves, and cans of disinfectant, knowing that those supplies will be used to treat critically ill Covid-19 patients. Community members, THANK YOU!

By Richard Chartier, Front Desk PSS

 

Fear Osmosis

Flutters of urgency
motion without permission.
New found modes of communication
surrounding us.
Words buzzing ear to ear
carrying weight of emotion,
permeating bodies like the air we breathe.

Listen dear one,
there is light.
It never left.
You have the power of discernment
Don’t give in to the theft
of fear
my dear.

By Kristine Manuel, Clinical Lab Scientist

 

Like a Movie

It’s everywhere
COVID-19 came in like a wrecking ball
Taking over our thoughts & actions.
I wish I could do more…But there is still hope in me knowing I work in a place full of innovation and compassion.
Sometimes this all feels like a sci-fiction movie, I just hope that, that one miracle comes in to play sooner than later.

By Anonymous, Medical Assistant

 

Untitled

Spring’s arrived– popping purple crocuses, bright yellow daffodils, and puffy pink cherry blossoms, a welcome transition from dreary winter’s rain. Although overshadowed by swirling uncertainty of the global pandemic, these spring flowers remind me that life will blossom again in the wake of this destructive virus. A sign of hope.

By Anonymous, Attending Physician

 

Remember

Let’s be patient…
Practicing medicine amidst social distress.
Supervising trainees.
Advocating.
Let’s extend grace…
We will be post-call (I was).
We will be managing clinical challenges (like I am).
We will make mistakes during our virtual lectures (like I did).
We will be stressed, tired, and sleep deprived (like I am).
Please, let’s be kind…

By Roberto Montenegro, Attending Physician

 

Zombie Virus

“I’m most afraid the coronavirus will become a zombie virus.” My son. I’m realizing I’ve failed to teach him much of what I’ve learned in school. Right now I’m non-essential. I don’t get to do medicine. But I can use my time to do what I do with patients – teach and comfort. Just at home.

By Anonymous, Medical Student

 

Behind the Mask

The nurse warns me that the 4 year old isn’t wearing a mask
The child says it’s hot and she can’t breathe
It’s too big anyway
Her parents are wearing masks and grave expressions
Breathlessly waiting for the test result
But good news?! She has Influenza, not Coronavirus
In these strange times, they’re relieved
They can’t see me smile, it’s hard for me to breathe in this mask too
Does my breath always smell like this?
I think we all need to breathe…better

By John Schreuder, Attending Physician

 

Hope

Anxiety, stress, fear builds up as my work week starts
Still we do our best to take care of our patients with compassion and empathy
Knowing we got each other’s back is comforting enough
Breathe of relief at the end of the shift
Gorgeous Seattle sunset and fresh air awaits outside
Hope floats…

By Zinnia, Nurse

 

Bodies

So thankful for yoga right now. I practice yoga as a way to come back into my body. To experience my body again as something other than a carrier of disease, something harmful to those around me. My body is so tired with the weight of this work. Yoga restores my buoyancy for a while.

By Loren, Social Worker

 

Home from Work

Teenage son says, “Hi, Mom. Wait. You’re in your bathrobe?!”
“We’re changing out of scrubs in the garage because of COVID-19. Um, you’re in a bathrobe, too?”
“Can’t go anywhere….. Why get dressed?”
We hear a car. Then, the door from garage to kitchen opens.
“Dad! You’re naked!?”
“Close your eyes, everyone! Heading to shower!”

By Sarah Merrifield, Attending Physician

 

Masks

“Don’t touch me” he yells, “ma’am don’t touch me”. I need to fix it. The thing that’s bothering him. I’m gowned, he can’t see my intent. Only my eyes. Do they convey I’m smiling? “Hey I’m here. I’m in this suit and I’m listening. I’m going to help you”. He’s scared. “I’m sorry” he said. His eyes shift to me in the midst of his painful storm. There we go, I think-contact. “What’s your name again?” He asks. I wonder if he can see the tear in my eye. The tear in holding back.

By Anonymous, Nurse

 

Untitled

10 years today at UWMC. Doors are all closed, visitors are gone, meetings are cancelled, some of my favorite colleagues are suddenly retiring early, everyone is as germaphobe as me, I am so tired after shifts (double the normal), it is scary to go in, the air in Seattle has been still and it is eerie and quiet like the calm before the storm at the hospital. But, I have not looked for other gigs since I started and I am proud to be where there is compassion, dedication and expertise! I am enjoying one day off, then back at it!

By Anonymous, Nurse

 

The Worst and the Best

COVID-19 has brought out the worst and the best in us.
Some have sold stocks on dire news that only they know. They still smile into the cameras.
Then, there are neighbors who bring over hot dinners in a basket for those coming home from the hospital exhausted.
Fresh baked cookies, too.
I’m grateful.

By Josh Benditt, Attending Physician

 

Outside Over There

“The plan is for me to visit on her birthday. I am planning on a cake, some gifts. She has cancer. My parents are elderly but are with her. They have more time, but are at risk. Now, I have to make a decision.”

Background: As many of us grapple with this situation at UW and deal with the impact to our daily lives in Seattle, we are also thinking about family, often times across the globe, who are affected as well.

By Anonymous, Support Staff

 

Is this not also “health”?

I have been distraught by news stories of individuals who are obligated to continue working despite manifesting symptoms of illness because they would otherwise not receive adequate pay.

As health care providers, is it not our responsibility to advocate for these individuals and stand up to the system that has condoned this behavior from employers?

The only thing I feel like I can do is vote. And deep down, I’m not sure that’s as powerful an action as I grew up thinking it would be.

By Anonymous, Resident/Fellow

 

A Minor Inconvenience

If only a mountain of Ricola would help.
Many neighbors are old, some oxygen dependent.
I don’t want any of them to get CoVid and be stuck in the hospital.
Because my brother or me were playing too close to the fence.
Can’t put up with this forever.
Help!

By Anonymous, Son of a nurse

 

In Light of Stillness

Fifty-five Words About Living Through Stillness:
Travel the empty roads, lightly filled transit.
The wary at home, wanderers in the streets.
Fog drifts in city streets, blossomed.
What other mists remain, unseen, deadly?
Be alert, of sober mind: death roars, soundless.
Live in the stillness, at heart of day.
Let night not take us away.

By Stephen Edwin Lundgren, Support Staff

 

Barriers

Caring for a COVID+ patient, this PPE makes me feel miles of distance between us.
How alone must they feel in this sterile room?
Do handshakes and hands on shoulders feel as comforting with gloves on?
If only they could see me smile underneath my mask.
I hope my eyes show how much I care.

by Daniel Cabrera, Attending Physician

 

Inhaling

Today in Seattle looks like every other day. So why the hush? Showered, as I always do – drank two mugs of coffee. So what’s the weight? I don’t know yet exactly what we’re waiting for. I’m inhaling, but maybe not deep enough. Is anyone else feeling this? Also – can whoever that is, please mute?

by Jennifer Best, Attending Physician

 

The student Clinic-Should we stay or should we go?

At what point is the benefit provided less than the risk you can confer to those that you are trying to help? As chair of one of the largest student run clinics, do we stay running and continue to provide help to the elderly and underserved or stop in fear of contracting and transmitting disease?

by Rohan Sehgal, Medical Student

 

It’s a very small world

Here- sick patients for hours. Flu like symptoms.
Systems are already struggling. My alarms are firing.
Flu? Something else? One infected, none, or all?
We wouldn’t know.
Isolation?
It’s just hours away-by air.
I’m told “we’re fine”
Three weeks later: “Where is Kirkland on that map?”
I am screaming into the wind

by Anonymous, Diagnostic Imaging

 

I’m Sorry

I’m worried. Your mom is very sick.
I’m sorry. You can’t go in the room.
I’m worried. There’s nothing we can do.
I’m sorry. She has passed away.
I’m worried. This is only the first of many.
I’m sorry. You can’t go in the room.
I’m worried. We don’t know what to do.
I’m sorry.

by Anonymous, Resident/Fellow

 

Spring Backwards

Soap suds. Wash away the problems of the first patient before tackling the next. Wash in. Wash out. Bow, namaste: in. Elbow bumping out. How do social distancing and healing touch work together?
The brain tumor is shrinking and he is getting better! So happy.
My patient leaps forward to hug me and I recoil.

By Lynne Taylor, Attending Physician

 

Father and Son

My father lives in Colombia. He is 72 and just recovering from a lung infection. I’m away from home and unable to take care of him. I talk to him everyday and ask him to be cautious. He just replies that I’m the one that needs to be careful. That I should take care of my wife and my child.

By Daniel F Gallego, Resident/Fellow

 

The Daily Huddle

Texts, phone calls, 1am emails, pressure, anxiety, calm-assuredness, fear, stress, concern, unknown. Every day I watch our deans come together and rise higher and pull each other up to solve crisis after crisis and problem after problem. I am so proud. So very proud of our clinicians and leaders.

By Kellie Engle, Support Staff

 

Inglorious Admin-ers

Nurses, MAs, EVS, administrators
hustle through the hall
Purposeful energy radiates
they whiz past my open door
A bit of chaos
uncertainty, unknown
but tasks
– Don! Doff! Clean! Care! –
helpful plans
obviously useful

at my desk, I sit.

Guess it’s time to keep reserving rooms, updating personnel files, ordering supplies, requesting funds, notifying volunteers, typing…

By Anonymous, Support Staff