March 15th, 2020
“As a member of the medical profession…” The Physician’s Oath echoed throughout the grand auditorium. Pride and excitement swelled in my chest as my name was called. I rose from my seat, sprung past the smiling faces of friends and classmates, and stood before the audience of thousands. I found my parents in the crowd as a senior placed the hood of graduation around my neck. They grinned and waved with delight and I returned their smiles. I made it. I had become a doctor after so many years of preparation. Little did I know the catastrophe that lay ahead; it was something that no one could have prepared for.
April 21st, 2020
“Ah, you must be the new resident doctor.” My assigned mentor, Dr. Jane said. I nodded. Her features were hidden; face obscured behind a surgical mask and a clear, plastic face shield, lab coat buried behind layers of blue surgical garments. The bags under her eyes stood out from her otherwise tidy uniform.
“Since this is your first day, follow me. I will show you around.”
The ward I have been assigned to was a post-surgery recovery ward for patients. Now it has been repurposed to a Coronavirus CPAP unit. The unit is a large room lined with beds and ventilators. What used to host six patients have been cramped to host twelve. Four workers including Dr. Jane and I were responsible for everyone in the unit.
“We used to have one worker per patient,” Dr. Jane explained, “now we have one worker per three patients. I know you didn’t sign up for joining the workforce at the dawn of a pandemic, but thank you for choosing this path.” I nodded. I may be inexperienced, but I also swore to dedicate my life to the service of humanity.
April 28th, 2020
One of the patients I was responsible for was Mr. Morris, an aging man with a balding scalp lined with grey hair. He had a family with three grandchildren who video called him every day. This was the only way to communicate with his family after the hospital barred all visitors from entering the outbreak wards. Mr. Morris could still talk when I first arrived. Since then, he had deteriorated.
“We have to plug him in, before his condition worsens.” Dr. Jane instructed somberly as staff inserted the medical tubes. Nurses plugged countless lines into his arteries to administer the necessary drugs and tubes ran from his nose to a ventilator. He could no longer speak, though his eyes spoke for him each time he saw his family.
May 1st, 2020
Mr. Morris fell into a coma and I don’t know if he will wake up again. Despite his unresponsiveness, his family still video calls him everyday.
“We know you can hear us, dad, and the children are all waiting for you to come home.” his son spoke through the video call. I knew he wasn’t only trying to comfort Mr. Morris, but himself as well.
“Alright, we will let Mr. Morris rest for today,” I forcefully suppressed my shaky voice as the call ended. I observed my patient. His sleep was almost serene; his body laid stationary except for the rise and fall of his chest as the ventilator did its job. There were nights when I had mistaken Mr. Morris for a corpse.
June 2th, 2020
A month has passed since Mr. Morris fell asleep and the senior doctors agreed that his chance of waking is decreasing day after day. And the hospital is running out of beds.
“We just don’t have the resources to continually sustaining Mr. Morris with little to no chances of recovery. His bed could save lives, with much greater chances of survival.” I left the meeting with a loss of words. We are merely doctors and we pledged to help all patients equally. What gives us the right to choose one life above another?
“You’re right, kiddo,” Dr. Jane explained, “but our role as physicians calls for difficult decisions to be made. There is always a slim chance that Mr. Morris could wake up tomorrow. And this is what makes the choice difficult. By choosing to save one life, you will abandon that of another. It is our duty as doctors to bear the weight of that choice.” Dr. Jane later notified Mr. Morris’ family on the current situation. I didn’t have the heart to tell them.
We put Mr. Morris to sleep a day later with his family by his side.
