The following has been adapted from two Instagram story series; video versions are available in the COVID-19 highlight on my profile!
Each day, I check in outside of our locker room, where we change into scrubs. I log my temperature, along with any symptoms, exposure, or recent travel. Each week, I swab. We use anterior testing, not oropharyngeal. It’s just a quick swipe of the nostrils for 10-15 seconds. Long-term care employees at my hospital test based on the number of cases in town. Sometimes, it’s twice a week. Other times, it’s once per month. My unit has been on lockdown since March of 2020, which means that every single case of COVID-19 will be brought in by staff. We have had zero so far, because of these practices. This is laborious, isolating, and inconvenient. It is also saving lives. It is my honor to follow Jesus in this way.
When I said that this is isolating, I mean for the staff. I appreciate the concern for our residents and yes, we have faced real challenges, both emotional and logistical over the last year. But lemme paint a picture so you have facts and not just talking points.
First, our LTC is the resident’s new family. No matter how faithful someone is to visit their loved one, it will never equal or surpass the time the resident spends with their neighbors and staff at a facility. It’s what they signed up for when they moved in, and that community has not been taken from them. Residents are not locked down in their rooms. Second, there are several reasons someone comes to live in a facility. The main reason is caregiver strain, or no caregiver at all. I’m not passing judgment, but the fact is that many residents weren’t receiving visits before the lockdown. Also, some residents have families out-of-state, or no family at all. Additionally, 100% of our residents’ families support our safety measures. Some have even turned down special consideration for in-person visits in favor of a safer option.
Third, I said numbers cannot lie and I mean it. Many of you healthcare workers sent me stories of one case getting into your facility, and then cases (and deaths) climbed for weeks afterward. One of you was required to work with your sick residents while you had the virus yourself. It’s truly remarkable that we haven’t had a case yet. But in addition that important number, I should also tell you that nobody at my facility has died as a result of isolation. And to take it further, nobody has lost weight or experienced a new decline in function or mood.
Why? Because fourth, we’re doing a lot. I started a happy light program several months ago, and I’m getting people off of sedating psych meds. The residents play bingo. Staff read the news individually to each resident each morning and sit with them at meals. Residents get to go outside on our deck, and even on van rides around town for a change of scenery. Family can visit via FaceTime or window, and in-person visits are arranged for emergencies and special occasions. Our people are living through a pandemic but they rarely, rarely alone. I know this is not the case for every facility in every community. Last year, I saw hospice patients in a long-term care that had been locked down and also staffed by FEMA, due to so much patient/employee illness. I know many facilities still have their residents confined to their rooms, and many are decompensating and getting worse due the isolation. It’s real and sad and hard and wrong. Again, my current work environment is the only story I can share in real time. And again, all COVID-19 cases are brought in from the outside of these facilities, which makes an excellent argument for each of us doing our part on the outside.
This brings me back to the beginning. The last year has been incredibly laborious, isolating, and inconvenient for ME. I’m not referencing the devastating effects of a global pandemic on our economy and education system and emotional health today. These are important topics for another day. I’m specifically speaking to my experience working with a high-risk patient population.
I moved here last May and haven’t met my coworkers without masks in place. It’s difficult to say no to travel and hangouts. The scrubs are scratchy and make my legs burn. There is a low buzzing hum of tension and anxiety all day everyday, as we try not to remember all of the steps and prepare our answers to questions by inspectors and encourage one another to get vaccinated. This morning I overheard a masked coworker in the gym, declining an invite to something because “I work in long-term care and I need to protect the residents.” Did I mention I don’t even know what my coworkers look like?! I recognized her by her voice.
My point is that it’s both-and. It’s laborious, isolating, and inconvenient. It’s also ministry. When I feel overwhelmed and yet compelled to help, there are action steps. Read the experts! Wear the mask! Wash the hands! Keep the safe distance! Talk openly and accurately about the vaccine! Pray! Pray! Pray!
When I spell it out like that, my role suddenly seems simple and not so unbearable after all. I’d even go as far as to say my personal rights feel wholly intact. I do not feel threatened or infringed upon. And even if or when my personal rights comes under attack, I’ll lay them down gladly. I follow Jesus. I signed up for this.
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