During this pandemic, there is no one braver, more caring or more essential to our society than those that work in hospitals. They are literally risking their lives to save the lives of others who come in alone, unable to have their loved ones with them, and ultimately, even might die alone.
Like everyone, I think they're great. I think they should be paid handsomely, even when we're not going through a damn pandemic. But we are. Some are making up to 10k a week in the hot spots, and even that doesn't feel like enough, given how often they come in close contact with the virus.
But even though I love my peeps in the medical community, even though I admire their work on the front lines, I DO NOT... want them anywhere near me.
Let me rephrase, there is no one I'd rather be around less.
And I think that's OK. The fact that many of these medical professionals are also self-quarantining AWAY from their families is all you need to know about the potential risks they deal with every day.
Normally, this take wouldn't even be relevant. I barely know anyone that lives in NYC, let alone anyone that works at a hospital. But it just so happens that a childhood friend just relocated to NYC for a short term assignment to treat COVID patients.
I mean, she has to know we're not going to see each other, right? This is not a social visit, and New York City is not open for tourism right now.
Of course, she doesn't. Otherwise, I wouldn't be furiously typing away on a Saturday afternoon.
After leaving her COVID assignment in Texas to come to NYC, where her help is DEFINITELY needed, she immediately asked me for some favors.
Let's run through them:
1. Two days before her arrival (didn't even know she was coming), I get an out of the blue text...
"Hey girl, question for you. Can I ship my scrubs, clothes and masks to your apartment and pick them up?"
Keep in mind she'd already been dealing with COVID patients.
I'm very sorry, but no, you certainly cannot. First up, my package area isn't allowing any deliveries other than essential items to their residents; and secondly, I especially don't want to come in contact with any of the things that you have personally packed and shipped. Don't you know, while you are important to society, anything you've touched scares the shit out of me? And shipping to your hospital is the smart move in all this anyway; it's where you're going to be most of the time, anyway.
2. "Why don't we take a walk through Central Park one day after I get off of work"
I love you girl. I really do. But right after your shift? The same shift where you're working with COVID patients in what is absolutely Ground Zero for the pandemic in the entire United States? When Social Distancing is maybe the only thing that will salvage 2021 at this stage, let alone 2020?
3. And here comes the coup de grace. "Can I use your kitchen, to meal prep and store my meals in your fridge? It's too expensive and unhealthy to continue to eat out."
I... I... [speechless].
Where do I begin? If I'm not willing to break social distancing rules set down by the President of the United States to walk with you in an open-air park, why would cooking in my kitchen be a good idea? And I feel for you about the food situation, but NYC's corona death toll just hit 5000 yesterday. This is far from a social situation.
This is in addition to the building rules being passed all across the city that restrict ANY visitors, let alone visitors that spend 14-16 hours a day with critical COVID patients.
All of this transpired in the middle of yesterday's workday, you know the one where everyone at Barstool feared they might get drafted by Dave to go clean up his apartment and touch all of his (and I'm not the only one to think this, based on the IG comments on his Unboxing feed) Corona stained package remains from all over the country?
When these messages came through, I wasn't fully able to give them the attention they deserved. I was focused on settling the panic I felt whilst reading Dave's tweets along with my EIC Keith's. In all honesty, I forgot about it.
Until this morning when she texted me this:
It speaks to my state of mind right now that after re-reading the text exchange from earlier that day where she made these, let's be frank, outlandish and frankly dangerous requests, it took everything out of me to bite my tongue. But I did, and not just because she's a friend, but because medical professionals during this crisis are saints. They are in a state of constant trauma and they deserve to be treated with kid gloves, even when they're not thinking entirely straight, like my friend.
For the good of society, their well-being should be protected at all costs, especially the ones we know and love. Last thing she needs is a snarky text from me. I will do what I can to help her out, I'll talk to her on the phone until I'm blue in the face, we'll face time as long as she needs. I'll recommend (from my limited knowledge) ANYTHING to make her stay as easy as possible during this rough and trying time.
But she's not going to be cooking dinner in my kitchen. And that, I think, is the reality of this pandemic, slapping us both right in the face.