Me: “Sis! I got your text. Damn.”
Her: *coughs* “Yeah. I feel like I got run over by a truck.”
Me: “How's your breathing?”
Her: “Bad cough. But OK, I guess.”
*coughing paroxysm*
Me: “Do you feel short-winded?”
Her: “No. Just worn down.”
Me: "Okay."
*silence*
2/ Her: “Dang. I would be the one to test positive for #COVID on the same damn day they start giving the vaccine.” *chuckles then coughs*
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. So, I let out a weak laugh, too.
Her: "Damn. This is kinda scary."
Me: *thinking* "Yeah."
It is.
3/ Her: “What should I do?”
Me: “Well, you’re already isolated. So that’s good.”
After that, I told her about supportive care, red flags and reasons to go to the hospital. As I was talking, she started coughing again. Super hard.
Me: “You okay, sis?”
Her: *coughing* “Yeah.”
4/ Right now, as of that moment when we spoke, she was okay. But the thing is . . . . I have no idea whether or not it will stay that way. So, when she asked me should she worry, I was honest.
Me: “I think it's good to appreciate how sick people can get with this.”
*silence*
5/ Her: “Girl, I should go review my will and make sure everybody has my passwords.”
She laughed. I did, too. Because it was a joke.
But then we stopped.
Her: “Damn. Should I do that for real?”
Me: “Most people do okay. But it’s always good to. . .”
I trailed off.
Shit.
6/ What do you say to that?
"Yeah, sis, get all your stuff in order just in case you have to get rushed by ambulance to a hospital for emergency intubation for 4 weeks."
or
"Yeah, sis, do that. Because you know folks are fine then they like hella aren't."
Some even die.
7/ I don’t have an ending to this. It is happening in real time. And it's ramping back up. Near peers calling me. Me feeling panicked but trying not to sound like I am.
~ 1 in 3. That’s the number of Black Americans who personally know someone in #the300K who’ve died.
~ 1 in 3.
8/ I wonder what the data would say about Black American physicians and text messages from those affected. 3 in 3 maybe?
Sigh.
I am worrying about my friend right now. I am also worrying about a bunch of other people, too.
9/ Add to this questions and concerns about vaccines. The stuff I have to do. And my kids in virtual learning environments at critical ages. And me not feeling too sure itfit's all okay.
Oh-and the inpatient service that awaits me Wednesday.
It's a lot man.
10/ Then I look at my watch and realize I haven’t seen a headline about somebody’s unarmed child being shot in a MIN-ute. So now I’m bracing myself and worrying about that, too.
Yeah.
What a dichotomous emotional ping pong today. A vaccine and a friend with COVID.
Damn.
11/ Her: “Kimberly, you BETTER be checking on me.”
Me: *not joking* “Adding you to my virtual rounds list.”
Her: *laughs* “Whaat? How many people you got on it?”
Me: “I got you on it and that’s all that matters.”
Her: *coughs* "But I'm your VIP."
Me: "Gotcha."
*laughter*
12/ Know this:
For us, words like "disproportionate impact" directly translate to . . .sorority sisters and roommates. Godfathers and play cousins. Siblings and barbers. And family.
Sigh.
Please check on your Black colleagues, okay? Because 1 in 3 is a lot.
That’s all. 🙏🏾🏥
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Me: *smiles* "I'm in sorts I promise. Now tell me--you alright?"
Him: "Me? Feeling a little better."
Me: "How's your wind?"
Him: "Waaay better."
Me: "Yay."
2/ I sit him up and carefully untie the back of his gown. On cue, he takes breaths in and out as I listen intently.
Me: "Lungs sound good." *moves around to front of chest* "I'm listening to your heart now. You can just breathe regular now."
Him: "Okay."
3/ After pressing my palm to his chest to feel his heart, I search his chest with stethoscope. Although it's not normal, it hasn't changed. Still he keeps making big gasps, forcing breaths in and out the whole time exaggeratedly.
I leaned over the sink with its rust-stained drain and ran cool water over my hands. Patting my fingertips over my face, I stared in the mirror. I’d been awake for >24 hours. It showed.
I tried to give myself a post-call pep talk.
Me: “C'mon, sis.”
2/ I was tired. But not just tired from the lack of sleep. It had been a cognitively hard night with sick-sick patients. While it had gone mostly fine, my brain was still steaming. Not to mention the sustained tachycardia I had every time I took call in the PICU.
It was rough.
3/ This was before duty hours reform. And it’s relevant here is because it explains why I had clinic that afternoon--even though I was post call.
I had just one wish:
To get through rounds in time to finish all my work and avoid having to return to the PICU after clinic.
1/ “Now that it’s raining more than ever, know that we still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella.”
– Rihanna
I entered the elevator alone one evening after a long day. Leaning my head back on the wall, I prepared for a peaceful ride to the ground floor.
Yep.
2/ After passing 6 floors, the lift stopped on the 5th floor. When the door separated, I opened my eyes and saw one of the Grady environmental services employees standing there with two giant rolling trash bins and a bunch of other stuff for cleaning.
He stepped back.
3/ Him: *waving his hand* “I’m cool, doc. I got a lot of stuff. I'll just get the next one.”
Me: *stepping aside* “Nah. It’s cool. Come on.”
And so he did.
Me: *glancing at him* “You good today?”
Him: “Yes ma’am. ‘Bout to drop this stuff off & go to the hizzouse!”
1/ Today is #WorldAIDSDay and I'm reflecting on the time that I got my first voluntary HIV test.
Wait.
I take that back. I am reflecting on the time that I decided to submit a narrative about my experience getting my first voluntary HIV test for publication.
Meta, I know.
2/ So I'd written this narrative back in 2008. And the fast story is that it was about me being a hypocrite about pressing a patient to be tested for HIV when I had never been voluntarily tested myself. Why?
Because I was scared.
Yup.
3/ I put that all on paper. Spoke this truth about being afraid and how my fear was rooted in the growing numbers of Black women impacted by HIV.
I mean. That's what I told myself.
But then I asked my colleague/wondertwin @DMalebranche to read it & give me some peer feedback.
1/ Stepped onto the Grady elevator last week. A Grady elder tipped his cap to me and nodded.
Me: “Good morning.”
Him: “Good morning, doc.”
*silence*
Him: “I like your hairdo.”
Me: *patting head* “Thanks, sir.”
Him: “I see you let them greys come on in, huh?”
*laughter*
2/ Me: “Yeah. Went on and let ‘em do what they wanted even at the risk of looking older.”
Him: *scowls* “Older than who?”
Me: “Older than my age. . . or just older than I want to look.”
He turned his mouth downward and nodded.
Him: “Mind me asking your age?”
3/ Me: *nervous laugh* “I would say guess but I’m scared of what you’ll say.”
Him: *squints* “Hmm. You somewhere ‘tween ‘bout . . .mmm 45, 50 or so.”
Me: “50.”
Him: *nods and shrugs* “Yeah that seem ‘bout right.”
Me: “Wow. That’s cold.”