United
Authors: Ami L. DeWaters
Journal: Annals of Internal Medicine (2020)

On Being a Doctor1 December 2020UnitedFREEAmi L. DeWaters, MD, MSCAmi L. DeWaters, MD, MSCPenn State Health, Hershey, Pennsylvania (A.L.D.)Search for more papers by this authorAuthor, Article, and Disclosure Informationhttps://doi.org/10.7326/M20-3807 Audio Reading - “United” Audio. Michael A. Lacombe, MD, Annals Associate Editor, reads “United” by Ami L. DeWaters, MD, MSc Your browser does not support the audio element. Audio player progress bar Step backward in current audio track Play current audio trackPause current audio track Step forward in current audio track Mute current audio trackUnmute current audio track 00:00/ SectionsAboutVisual AbstractPDF ToolsAdd to favoritesDownload CitationsTrack CitationsPermissions ShareFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail She is tired. Not physically, as she was a week ago when we first met. Then she had been spending days struggling to breathe, and the physical strain was obvious. No, now it is clear that her exhaustion is emotional. She has new dark circles under her eyes that tell me she hasn't slept and an expression on her face that can only be described as defeated. She had been so excited the day before when we made our plan for her to leave the hospital within the next 24 hours. Now, I walk uneasily into the room, unsure of what has caused her anticipatory joy to be replaced with melancholy. She looks at me and, without my saying a word, says, “No one wants me around.” She says it factually, but then the extent of the upset she feels and is trying to hide becomes clear. She drops her head onto the pillow and silently begins to weep.I hesitate, not knowing how to respond. She tells me through her tears that, since she was diagnosed with COVID-19, she has had little if any contact with her family or friends. She tells me about them—the friends she's had since childhood and the big family, all of whom live within a few blocks of each other. She says that when she was first diagnosed she didn't want to reach out to anyone. She didn't want to make them worry, and she certainly didn't want to expose the people she loved to the disease. However, as she became sicker and lonelier, she became more scared. She made telephone calls, but no one answered. She wants to go home as we planned but will need help getting groceries. Still no one answers her calls. She finally exclaims in frustration, “I know they're just scared.” Then she whispers, “But how much longer do I have to suffer alone?”I try to encourage her by telling her how well she is doing and that she may actually be able to lift home isolation very soon after discharge. I tell her about the programs we have to help her get groceries. However, in the end, I can't tell her what she needs to hear. I can't tell her when she will have the comfort and warmth of the presence of her family and friends. I can't tell her when her life will become predictable and normal again.I leave her room and walk down the hall. A normally friendly resident physician sees me, ducks his head, crosses to the other side of the hall, and silently passes as if he hoped that he would simply disappear from my view behind his mask and surgical cap. Later, an attending physician on another floor sees me; stops midstep; and says, “Are you coming this way?” When I reply that I am, he darts into the nearest room he can find and hides, waiting for me to pass. I've been marked as belonging to the unit no one wants to enter, so I head to my office to lie low and work.I order a study for one of my patients. The tech calls me to tell me that, because of exposure concern, I should try to do it myself. I reach out to a few friends for support and receive in return varying forms of stilted responses or, worse, silence. I drop my head on my desk and silently weep, defeated and emotionally exhausted. It suddenly seems clear that there is only one place for me to go.I return to the COVID unit. I walk into her room again, this time under the guise of making sure she understands all her discharge instructions. She listens politely, but after a few minutes, she looks at me and says, “It's okay, doc. No one wants you around either, huh?”I shake my head.“You like this show?” she asks, pointing at the television.“I love it,” I reply.“Well, is anyone going to be upset if I leave a few minutes later?” she asks.“No, not at all,” I answer.“Have a seat then,” she says, and I see her smile for the first time that day … and I smile in return.She reaches over and pushes a chair toward me. And so we watch, not really talking but united—together in isolation. Comments0 CommentsSign In to Submit A Comment Author, Article, and Disclosure InformationAffiliations: Penn State Health, Hershey, Pennsylvania (A.L.D.)Corresponding Author: Ami L. DeWaters, MD, MSc, 500 University Drive, Hershey, PA 17033; e-mail, [email protected]psu.edu.This article was published at Annals.org on 30 June 2020. PreviousarticleNextarticle Advertisement Audio Reading - “United” Audio. Michael A. Lacombe, MD, Annals Associate Editor, reads “United” by Ami L. DeWaters, MD, MSc Your browser does not support the audio element. Audio player progress bar Step backward in current audio track Play current audio trackPause current audio track Step forward in current audio track Mute current audio trackUnmute current audio track 00:00/ FiguresReferencesRelatedDetails Metrics 1 December 2020Volume 173, Issue 11Page: 937KeywordsCOVID-19Emotions ePublished: 30 June 2020 Issue Published: 1 December 2020 Copyright & PermissionsCopyright © 2020 by American College of Physicians. All Rights Reserved.PDF downloadLoading ...