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I moved around a lot as a kid. It isn't easy to make friends when you're going through something like that, so I learned early on that telling a story is the best way to help people learn about who you are. And because the last few years have been unbelievable (read: insane) for all of us, do I have a story for you.
We're all aware of the joke that white folx often run towards the sounds of imminent danger, and I thought I inherited the stereotype after hearing about a COVID-19 clinic opening up at my workplace and needing receptionists to help with the overflow of positive patients and becoming overwhelmed with the need to sign up. (I've had many other occasions in my medical career when I've had this thought, but this one truly takes the cake.)
I use 'overwhelmed' because the need didn't go away until I landed a position on the COVID-19 floor at Nebraska Medicine. I mention the name of the hospital specifically because it's 'home to the largest of four high-level biocontainment patient care units in the U.S.', as stated in this NPR article, and I still can't believe I worked there.
It was extremely stressful to work on this floor. Everyone was exhausted because there was always something to do. My floor was a bariatric med surge prior to the outbreak. This meant that we were better equipped to assist heavier patients in recovering from surgery because we had extra lifts installed in the ceiling. These are both a blessing and a curse; they help by allowing us to avoid tugging at folx with brand-new stitches and things, but many people were disheartened by the fact that they had to use them.
We had a patient on our floor who needed us to use the one in their room, not because they were recovering from surgery, but because they were mostly done with living and provided little assistance. They had a life that had unfortunately led to their gradual decline due to alcohol abuse, so they were visibly jaundiced when I met them.
This didn't always result in the best care from my coworkers, only exacerbating the situation. Please always be kind because your actions have an even greater impact than you realize.
Taking care of them one night, I was finally able to get them to smile. I walked in and while taking their vitals, I started with “What's long, brown, and sticky?” They looked up at me, understandably confused and probably a bit annoyed.
“A stick.”
They smiled as I laughed through my N95/face shield combo. This is my favorite joke, especially when you're at a patient's bedside (and they won't take offense to it), and it's even better because there's some truth to the madness that was toilet paper hoarding.
I'm not sure how someone can balance these kinds of extremes and still want to make jokes, but here we are.
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Phidámayaye ye. Taŋyáŋ ihdúha!
You have made me grateful. Take care!