ch #4 - I GOT TESTED TODAY. DON’T WORRY.

When Francesca’s car reaches the gate, our dog recognises the sound of the engine and walks straight to the window, thrilled and proud, like a sentinel, ready to deliver the news of the arrival of a queen. 

Lately, standing right next to the dog, it’s the four of us, watching her park the car, trying to capture her smile, trying to detect how she is doing. 

“ It feels like we are at war. The virus is super contagious; in ICU, we only have Coronavirus patients, more than 12. And it’s not different in the other wards: wherever there’s a ventilator, we place a new patient ”.

The girls and I ask her how these people are doing; how is she dealing with the patients? Are they all serious or can she sometimes talk to them?

“ No, there are no words exchanged. They are all intubated, attached to the ventilators, all sedated. All their clinical pictures look the same. It feels like we’re at war: a constant influx of wounded people from a battlefield ”. 

I perceive her astonishment, and I understand she is in distress, despite her never showing any signs of weakness. 

A doctor at ICU is somehow used to deal with people coming with the most moving stories, be it a trauma caused y an accident or be it the final steps of an already critical situation. The job consists of little details. Nothing can be overlooked, and every aspect of the medical history of the patient counts. It’s a job that requires a lot of patience. Each small progress matters, it becomes a reason to go on, to fight the exhaustion. The ICU unit is sort of a little, busy universe, always alert, active, pulsing. 

The news around is that when the Coronavirus influenza worsens, it can cause pneumonia to those who are already vulnerable due to other medical conditions. Older people are considered at risk. Our girls are anxious about their grandparents. 

I want to know more. She says: “ The typical patients have similar characteristics: about 70 years old, with a precondition of hypertension and obesity. We also have the 80 and 90 years old, who are already weak. But then we also have young adults; the disease is not an exclusivity of the older people. The first Italian patient is a 38 years old marathon runner. He is no exception ”.   

In Italy, in 10 days, we’ve reached 3000 cases. 1820 in Lombardy only. Three hundred new positive individuals a day. 12% are doctors and medical staff. 

How are we not supposed to think about Francesca when we know these are the facts?

“ Listen - I ask her - I trust you fully, I know you act responsibly, but are you sure all safety measures are taken? And how is it to work with all the protective gear? ”

“ We have the necessary equipment. I must say, though, that it is weird and annoying to see people not doing our job going around the hospital wearing FFP3 masks, which are the safest, hard to find, and that we only use when we carry out the most hazardous Coronavirus procedures. That’s, for example, in case we have to intubate a patient or to keep their respiratory tracts clean. Concerning the rest, well, I have this red mark on my nose because we got a provision of face masks from Turkey, but they have a very short rubber band and they are very tight. It’s a different job we do these days. We’re completely isolated from the world. When you close the door behind you, it’s as if you were diving into an aquarium. We communicate with our colleagues through a glass wall if we need something. It feels surreal ”.

 “ Oh! Almost forgot, today I got tested ”.

What? Really? Why you? The denial of undeniable facts influences my first instincts; similarly to when, as a child, I fell from my bike, and as I was laying on the road I thought, no, this is not happening, everything is just fine. I’ll have a look at my hands and knees, and there won’t be any blood.’ Instead, while observing my skin for a bit, slowly, among the white scratches, the feared red drops gushed out, and I just wished I could go back in time, to rewind to the moment nothing had happened yet. 

My brain captures the news about the test and starts to elaborate on absurd thoughts. My mind runs back to the time I went for my military service visit; I was 18 then. Some strangers in the queue were plotting on how not having to pee into the specimen cup. “If you say it doesn’t come, that you really can’t pee into the cup, then they give you another appointment for the urine test. The longer you wait, the better, so they can’t detect the THC in it ”.

Back from my flashback. 

Oh. The test. You had to do it? Could you not get out of it? Couldn’t you get the mucus of a healthy colleague? I joke. It’s disgusting, baby, I know! It’s ok, at least we don’t have to think about that anymore. How was it?

“ Don’t worry, it’s a routine check for the staff of ICU. It’s an annoying test; they take a swab long into your nasal cavity, it felt like it touched my brain, and then into your throat. It was funny because I started to cough when a second nurse was entering the room, who then began questioning me about my symptoms. She said: “ Excuse me, do you have a cough? Since when? ” But now seriously, if the result is positive, I’m not coming back home. I don’t want to infect you, the girls or the whole family ”.

It’s always my Francy, the punk girl I got to know so many years ago, who listens to Green Day, full volume, in her car. Coming to think about it, it might be that our dog actually recognises them when she comes home, not the engine of the vehicle. 

“ I’ll take the dog for a walk, so I can also get some movement ”, I tell her, trying not to sound worried. 

I quickly get to the path that runs up the hill behind our house, trying not to think about the test. I do believe it was right to get her tested, rationally it was the best thing to do, we don’t have to think about it anymore. I find myself running up the hill. I was not planning on that, and I am wearing the wrong clothes. I start sweating, but I still keep on going faster. I don’t feel the exhaustion, on the contrary even, every step I take, I can breathe better, it’s like re-emerging after freediving. But I still would like to rewind, just like when I was a child, to be back home, to not to lose one second of her presence.  

Once at home, we could listen to Basket Case, for a trip down memory lane to 20 years ago, when I played the song with my youth band at a Carnival party. My wonderful Francy, who was then studying medicine, borrowed us some white coats to look like Green Day in the video of their song.

I’d like to dance that song with all my girls, singing the part saying: “ I am one of those Melodramatic fools/ Neurotic to the bone/ No doubt about it/Sometimes I give myself the creeps/ Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me/ It all keeps adding up/ I think I’m cracking up…”

The dog and I look at each other; we know it’s time to get back. We open the door to find mother and daughters entangled in a game of Twister. Just like the name of this ’80s game, life is indeed an emotional tornado. 

The fact they chose precisely this game today, must be a way of giving and receiving as many hugs and cuddles as possible, to have some credit for the days to come. 

I throw myself into the mix.

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