That first taste of spring

Today, when I woke up, around 6, it was still dark, it was raining some, I think, and it was cold. Yet, for me, today was that first taste of spring you feel, when as a school kid, the Jersey weather warms up just enough for recess to be held outside and the sun and its cool warmth lift the weight of winter off your shoulders. Everyone is laughing. Everyone knows, while spring isn’t here yet, the worst of winter is over.

So, it was for me this morning.

Each morning for the past 40 or so, after getting letting the dogs out and getting my coffee, I log into the hospital’s electronic record system to see how many new pts we have gotten since I went to bed. Each morning, more new pts have been added. After ignoring or suppressing my anxiety and dread, I then go to work, ordering what needs to be ordered, since, for Covid pts, it has become pretty rote for us. Some mornings…many mornings I would have only logged off 5 or 6 hours before and as I refreshed the screen, the weight of despair would almost smother me.

But today was different. We had ZERO new Covid pts. Doctors, at least nerdy doctors like myself (meaning Internists), count their chickens far after they have hatched. But today, I knew to downtrend was real. I still had plenty of work to do, checking on the very sick pts, making sure things were optimized, but the lack of new pts brought a smile to my face. A few hours later, on my way out of the door, heading to the hospital, I mentioned to Susan that it felt like the first day of spring. She looked at me confused and asked “Why? The weather’s still terrible.” I explained the giddy feeling had nothing to do with the weather, but the relief, the relief of knowing the work today wouldn’t be overwhelming and that the winter’s end was near.

In the hospital, doctors and nurses, superstitious as always, were in better spirits, but still almost afraid to state the obvious – the number of new Covid pts has decreased dramatically, suddenly and thankfully.

Only a week or so ago, the hospital had trouble finding beds for pts. Now, emptiness abounds. Whole wards are empty, the anxiety, fear and dread dissipating from the masked covered faces and the shared weariness replaced with jocularity.

Til now, the how are you doing’s were answered uniformly with “shitty” or some derivation thereof. Today, the how are you doing’s were answered reflexively, like the old days, you know, way back in the first week of March.

Today, while they wasn’t a feeling of victory, there was a feeling that we are not going to lose. It felt like, I imagine, troops feel after struggling to hold their ground. Little Round Top is held. The invading army will go no further.