This past Sunday, I biked to a nearby town to my college ... and visited a small vinyl store in a man’s garage. The bike ride was long and tiring, but I did not know what to expect when I reached this man’s house on a suburban street. Once I arrived, I was instantly surprised by this man’s collection of vinyl, turntables, and jukeboxes that reminded me of the music I grew up listening to. It was a welcome sight to see a place not seriously affected by the Coronavirus. I asked him how he manages to have a small business like this during COVID; he said sales of turntables rose as people stayed inside more and saw an influx of people asking him to fix their machines. He seemed in excellent spirit, singing along to the music and showing off individual records. I thought about this experience and the joy it brought him to discuss music and show me his turntables and it reminded me of the power of these compositions. The music itself has become increasingly important to sustain my mental health and let me for a second forget what we are going through and be submerged by the music. And as I reflected on my music dependence, I realized how important it has become in a Pandemic. We listen to music to remember the past and the times that things were normal; we listen to music to daydream, remind us of people, and marvel at the artist’s talent. Once an artist releases a song, it becomes a constant, does not waver or die, and is cemented in history. We should recognize this with all the uncertainty in the time of COVID; we are provided with a haven that can take us out of the current crisis.
October 20, 2020
The coronavirus pandemic is affecting my life in two ways. First, as an inpatient physical therapist in a large hospital, I treat this population daily, starting with proning maneuvers in the ICU (for ARDS) to the floor level patients until discharge. It is challenging work, but it is also rewarding. I feel that I am part of history implementing new research data and reading cutting edge studies as I move along. It's like riding a wave of new information where history is being made. While a lot of this work is rewarding, it is also terrible. All too many times I see somebody die from this virus. Like Mary, a sweet lady in her 80's who I helped up to the chair in the ICU just so she could hear her husband's voice over the phone. She cried when he picked up on the other end. She did not worry about herself and her increasing need for oxygen, she was worried about HIS health, home alone without her. Mary passed a few days later, intubated, sedated, and alone. And there's the Vietnam vet who has survived unspeakable atrocities and now fights for every breath, proned in his ICU bed, also alone. Not only has this pandemic affected me in my profession, but also my personal life. I was not able to see my parents in Austria in 2020, as I had planned. They are getting older, and I know i need to see them as often as I can. I was not able to go to the gym anymore, which was my opportunity to socialize with friends and blow off some steam. I have become a homebody over this past year. This isn't as sad as it sounds. It has lead me to rediscover the simple pleasure of being at home with my loved ones and enjoy our little "pack" (boyfriend and two dogs). I have started to read again, have a routine of daily workouts on my Peloton after work, and enjoy new hobbies, such as playing chess. I am typing this at work, getting ready for my shift. Today I have about 10 Covid-19 patients on my list. I look forward to seeing them, to trying to improve their lungs if even just a little, to get them out of bed to the window, or even just to bring a smile to their faces.
February 5, 2021