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home / 世界杯决赛2022

opinion: a christmas plea to spread love and joy, not covid-19

christmas has always been a big deal in my family. from...

by calgary herald

dec 23 2021
read time 3 minute read
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teams in a crowded calgary intensive care unit tend to a covid-19 patient on a ventilator. supplied by alberta health services
christmas has always been a big deal in my family. from my dad’s legendary christmas tree hunts (four-wheel drive required!) to the meals that would rival any michelin-starred restaurant, i have many incredible memories of christmas. the most meaningful part of all was the time spent together with loved ones. last year, christmas was very different. i was fortunate to spend christmas eve with my daughters, but they left early on christmas morning to go to their dad’s. i spent the remainder of christmas day, and the days after, alone, save for the company of my little dachshund, jasper, and our tree frog, hoppy.

this year will also be different. on dec. 24 and 25, i will be working night shifts in the icu. i started helping out in the icu in september as hospitals became overwhelmed during the fourth wave of the covid-19 pandemic. as an oncology and palliative care nurse for over 20 years, i’ve been around a lot of death and dying over the years. but little in my career to date prepared me for what i experienced in the icu in the fall. to begin with, it was not the same type of nursing that i’m used to; the kind where i can easily connect with patients and their loved ones. i still talked to my patients but most of them did not (could not) respond. their motionless bodies, rendered so by the sedatives and paralytics required when someone is intubated and ventilated, were so very still. notably absent were the families that usually keep vigil at someone’s bedside. visitor restrictions, as controversial as they may be, are meant to keep patients, visitors, and staff safe, but they represent a particularly cruel aspect of the pandemic. (please visit the ahs website for the latest information on visitor restrictions.)

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working in the icu was, and still is, a lot to take in. once you see certain things, you cannot unsee them. the sights, the sounds, the feeling of the deep ache that comes with knowing that someone will not survive or if they do, their life will never be the same again. the hissing and sputtering of the suction used to keep airways clear, the alarms from ventilators or monitors warning that someone isn’t doing very well, the near-constant iv pumps beeping. all of these sounds echo in my mind long after i’ve left the hospital. the complexity of care required to keep someone alive on life support still astounds me. the array of medications, the machines, the multitude of tubes: nasogastric tubes, endotracheal tubes, central lines, peripheral iv lines, foley catheters, chest tubes, rectal tubes. every time i help to reposition someone, i am hyper-aware of these tubes; they are literally lifelines for the patient.

if someone requires icu care, it’s because they are very unwell and, frankly, have come very close to dying. i hear people talk about the consequences of covd-19 in binary terms: you live, you die. but it’s far more nuanced than that, something that statistics don’t capture well. many people who survive an icu stay will experience long-term complications that may impact their lives for months or years. many will experience significant psychosocial challenges and post-traumatic stress disorder following their icu stay.

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to be clear, this is not all about covid-19. since the beginning of the pandemic, more than 81,000 surgeries have been postponed in alberta, including cancer surgeries. the consequences of delaying cancer surgeries , either diagnostic surgeries or surgeries that are part of someone’s cancer treatment, can mean that cancer progresses to the point where it is no longer curable.

when it comes to covid-19, there will never be zero risk, but there are ways to be as safe as possible. these include: getting immunized , using a good quality, well-fitted mask, limiting the size of gatherings , rapid antigen testing , getting a hepa filter or improving ventilation , and r emaining at home if unwell: i’m safr .

at the end of the day, all i want for christmas is for people to spread love and joy, not covid-19.
reanne booker is an oncology and palliative care nurse practitioner and phd candidate at the university of victoria. she is the president of the canadian association of nurses in oncology and a member of the protect our province alberta group.
 

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