From a Leading Boston Hematologist. A WONDERFUL MEDITATION IN THE TIME OF COVID 19

Via my good friend Ann Albritton. (I tried my hardest to copy and paste this, without luck. So here is the URL).

It is magnificent!

chocolate   I   received.   Now,   frustration   and   gloom   are   the   dominant   emotions, 

punctuated by bursts of anger over having to wear a mask or being unable, still, to bring 

visitors to appointments.

Coworkers  are  under  strain,  too.  Our  residents  and  hematology  fellows,  physician 

assistants and nurse practitioners, nurses and young faculty who have children struggle 

to cope with strange school schedules, irregular child care a	

rrangements, grandparents 

afraid  to  visit,  and  kids  stuck  at  home  far  more  than  they  should  be.  Clinics  are 

especially draining, as our patients need more from us than ever and care logistics keep 

changing. Treasured rituals of group meals with colleagues,	

mood 

-

lifting conversations, 

and shared jokes in the hallway now no longer happen, since we see little of each other 

outside the context of a computer screen. Our favorite medical meetings are all virtual, 

making it harder to catch up with friends from oth	

er cities and countries.

Academic  and  research  efforts  have  endured  heavy  setbacks,  and  the  future  of 

institutions that have lost billions is uncertain. We mourn the deaths of so many of our 

patients and their family members, and grieve for lost friends an	

d loved ones. From time 

to time we hear about colleagues who have taken desperate steps to end their pain, and 

in dark moments it is not so hard to imagine how they got to that point.

No matter which side of this era’s charged political debates we fall 

on,

the people who were on the other side will all still be there once 

the pandemic is over.

Even  if  we  get  through  this  pandemic  and  its  consequences,  without  the  collapse  of 

civilization 	

–

if  a  terrific  vaccine  is  developed,  and  the  population  learns  to  val	

ue

competence  in  political  leaders  more  than  rhetoric  and  rallies  and  empty  promises 	

–

we’ll still have to face the cumulative toll of what we have endured in 2020. I hope that 

there  will  be  an  unprecedented  opportunity  to  make  the  world  better,  but  it  wil	

l  be  a 

difficult  task,  in  the  same  way  that  a  weary  Europe  faced  rebuilding  after  the  dual 

ravages of World War I and the 1918 influenza pandemic. We’ll need to confront long	

-

standing festering social justice issues, head off the bleaker forecasts of clima	

te change 

experts, keep artificial intelligence from running amok 	

–

and come to terms with the fact 

that, no matter which side of this era’s charged political debates we fall on, the people 

who were on the other side will all still be there once the pandem	

ic is over.

​

Despite the long slog behind and ahead, I still have some fumes left in my metaphorical 

fuel tank. Unable to travel, I’ve visited more local parks than I knew existed, and have 

treasured  watching  the  New  England  landscape  change  across  seasons.	

When  things 

seem most dire, I turn off the computer and look outside at the busy bird feeder or the 

expansive  night  sky.  I  remember 	

–

and  am  grateful 	

–

that  there  is  still  food  in  my 

refrigerator, natural gas in my furnace, and a sturdy roof over my head.	

Those of us who 

are in stable situations need to do all  we  can to keep our engines of compassion from 

sputtering out. In the closing words of the Freakonomics Radio podcast: “Take care of 

yourself 	

–

and, if you can, someone else too.”

That long	

-

ago December night in rural Michigan did not end by the side of the road like 

a  grim  scene  from  Fargo.  Eventually,  a  brilliantly  lit  all	

-

night  service  plaza  appeared  in 

the distance, and it proved not to be a mirage. The Dart had just enough mome	

ntum to 

coast  to  a  stop  at  the  pump,  at  which  point  the  engine  stalled 	

–

but  it  no  longer 

mattered.

In my mind’s eye, I recall the service station attendant lifting the pump handle toward 

the car’s fuel tank as a smiling Anthony Fauci	

–

like figure, injectin	

g a safe and effective 

restoring  syringe  of  liquid  into  our  fuel  tank  and  wishing  us  a  pleasant,  peaceful,  and 

safe journey.

Reference

1.

Greaves  JS,  Richards  AMS,  Bains  W,  et  al.  Phosphine  gas  in  the  cloud  decks  of 

Venus. Nat Astron. 2020 September 14. [Epub ahead of print]

Povey Prattle