Estoy ser humano, hueso y carne, débil y agotable.

 I have a confession. I sometimes get these ideas of grandeur. I wouldn't go as far as to say delusion of grandeur, I know I'm nothing except for the grace of God. But, sometimes my adrenaline kicks in and I keep going on my own steam forgetting to draw from that grace, only remembering my human limits as I come to a sputtering halt.
I'm referring to last week, after two incredibly busy weeks at the hospital. By the time I was able to get myself home last Saturday I wasn't capable of doing much more than maintaining fetal position in bed for at least 15 hours. And it took at least a full 24 hours to feel like myself again. Sigh. There is a reason God designed the Earth to rotate, giving us day and night. There is a reason He declared a day of rest. We are his creation, and He knows what we need. The human body, as utterly awesome as it was fashioned, is still just that... human.


All of my co-residents have been given clearance to return to work. Which means that a few of my extra calls have been redistributed once again, and my schedule is a bit more manageable. For which I am very thankful.
Despite everyone being back, we unfortunately still don't see each other often on account of the new times. a.k.a. COVID coverage and no elective surgeries. But no one complains, we see the numbers starting to improve. One of the COVID ICUs (the last one to be converted to COVID) has now been the first one to be closed and emptied of COVID patients. The total COVID inpatient census at the hospital has trickled down over the past week or so, due to lower amount of daily admissions combined with steady discharges (either to home or heaven). We see those numbers and take great caution to believe them, bracing ourselves mentally for what could potentially happen once restrictions are lifted. Hence, noone complains, because no one really talks about it much anymore. We've adapted to our new normal. Even the bruises on the bridges of our noses from the N95s are becoming calloused and numb and the skin of our hands becoming ever drier and itchy from constant purell and washing, but that's just our noses and hands adjusting and adapting as well.

My co-resident took the following photo the other day:

The hospital campus with empty parking lots... Deserted hospitals: patients fighting for their lives, many loosing that battle, without family or loved ones to comfort them. When a family member asks me about visiting I direct them to the nursing manager and then watch as the law is laid down not having the heart to tell them no myself. These hospitals are a war zone, and no exceptions are made.

Much Love and Prayers.