Acute respiratory car clinic

Here I am in my COVID-19 gear while running the acute respiratory response team. We see people in their cars for all respiratory symptoms. Most do not meet the current guidelines for COVID testing, but because we cannot risk having someone with coronavirus come inside the clinic, all respiratory symptoms are triaged to the car line where I see them in full gear to err on the side of caution as well as to conserve PPE. I only have to change gloves between patients (or if something were to become visibly soiled). This is important because there are nationwide PPE shortages for N95 masks, gowns, and face shields/ goggles.

Friday was very hot. It was in the mid-80s.

Saturday was much better - only in the low 60s, It was raining, but at that clinic, we had a "drive thru" tent for which I was incredibly grateful.

The only patients being seen in office right now are unstable patients (trying to prevent ER use and hospitalization), prenatal patients, acute non-respiratory illness, birth control, and babies who need vaccines. Everyone else is being told to wait or being seen through telemedicine if possible.

I know a lot of people are out of work, and I know that this is incredibly hard for them financially. I sincerely hope that our government passes legislation to give relief and soon. I don't have this same problem, but coronavirus is affecting me greatly.

My job has gotten much harder. I see scared people, worried that they have a deadly disease or that they might give the virus to someone they love. I see frustrated people, irritated that they have to be seen in such an inconvenient manner for a "simple" sinus infection. I have a long list of patients that I need to call to try to do medicine from a distance with no ability to examine them. This cuts into my confidence and only increases my level of anxiety.

There is more stress and more urgency. There is a lot of unknown. The whole situation seems to change daily. I can't see 2 days in front of me, much less 3 months or 6 months down the road. I wonder quietly how many of my colleagues will be called to work in coronavirus wards at the hospitals and how I will fill their absence in a world where no one is allowed to leave their house. I fill prescriptions for my most vulnerable patients and pray for their safety. How many of them will we lose? Will their families even get to say goodbye? Or will their bodies be moved out in trucks after we add another hash mark to the list of fatalies?