An ER nurse has shared a moving account on the impact the CCP virus pandemic has had on her family life. She hopes that by sharing her story, people will start to take social distancing more seriously, protecting both themselves and their communities.
“Community spread is now confirmed in my area,” the nurse continued, “and being an ER nurse means that the odds of being exposed over and over again are now a 100 percent guarantee.
“So I just wanted to talk to everyone stuck at home with your family, bored out of your mind, and itching to get out,” she said. “A little perspective is sometimes all you need to feel grateful for the things you have that others don’t.”
The impact of life on the front lines of the CCP virus battle, the nurse explained, follows healthcare practitioners all the way out of the hospital and into their own homes. She explained that she has had to start entering her home through the laundry room door, stripping off her clothes and washing them on “sanitize mode.”
The nurse must then use a bleach wipe to clean anything she has touched before walking into a bedroom reserved exclusively for her, where she takes a shower. Once again, a bleach wipe extinguishes her trail.
After hand-sanitizing and dressing, the nurse can finally join her family, but not at close quarters. “I’ll be able to sit in the family room,” she wrote, “six feet away from everyone I love, but not touch anyone; I’ll know I’ve been exposed.
“I’ll get to talk to my husband and kids from a safe distance,” she continued, “but I won’t get to touch anyone I love. I’m not a hugger, but I anticipate that the next few weeks are likely to bring days where I could really use a hug.”
A member of the family prepares the nurse some food on disposable dinnerware; she answers questions about her day. “I’ll probably have to assure my youngest, for the millionth time, that mommy will stay safe,” she writes. “When that’s done, I’ll give the kids air hugs and wish them goodnight.”
In regaling the horrors of the day to her husband, the nurse admitted, “I’ll probably lie a little.” She then heads to bed, alone.
“Stay home. Hug your children, sleep with your spouse,” she wrote, “eat on porcelain plates, sip wine from a long-stemmed glass, and give thanks for the things that you can still do that some of us can’t.
“I’m doing my part. Please do yours.”
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