Elizabeth, Intern, Brooklyn
By Sam Chennault
Shift Change tells the stories of ordinary people on the frontlines during a transformational period in American life. The goal of this project is to raise funds for Supply Drop Brooklyn, a charitable organization that partners with local restaurants to deliver meals to healthcare workers at affected hospitals. Your help can make a critical difference. Please visit Supply Drop and learn how you can make a contribution. For more information about this project, check out our About page.
Elizabeth is an intern at a hospital in Brooklyn, New York. This is her story.
When did you decide to become a healthcare professional?
I thought about becoming a healthcare worker when I was in high school, but it was towards the end of college that I decided. With everything that’s going on, I’ve thought a lot about why I made that decision. This disease is a great equalizer. With medicine, it was always my hope that people would be treated the same. Room 1 can be a CEO, and Room 2 can be a homeless person. That was always the ideal for me, and the virus is proving that (to be true). One of my colleagues mentioned that she has a healthy respect for the virus — it doesn’t discriminate, it affects everyone.
How has your life changed since the virus struck?
The hospital is a war zone. I have my mask on, always. It’s a different level of anxiety. You know the work day is going to be unpredictable and sad, and that’s affected me and my colleagues. We know that we’re putting ourselves and our loved ones at risk.
How are you handling that?
Everyone is working on dealing with this anxiety. I find that it’s important to compartmentalize. I’ve been doing this for two weeks. It’s taken me that amount of time to learn that. I speak at least once a day to colleagues about what’s going on and how we’re dealing with it. In the rare moments of downtime, someone will bring it up. We have resources, but it’s difficult to find time to process.
We’re all struggling in different ways. I’ve asked my co-workers who are vulnerable if they are sad and scared. People show this in different ways. The nature of people who go into medicine is to be professional and tuck in their emotions. There are a few people in the hospital who are able to maintain a light attitude, which is helpful. They smile all the time, though it’s hard to see because we’re all behind masks. It’s rare, but it’s inspiring.
How has this changed your view of your profession?
It’s interesting to hear people say that this is or isn’t what I signed up for. It changes my view because coming into medicine, I knew I would have to push myself in a way that I didn’t expect, but I didn’t expect to fear for my own safety. This virus is unpredictable. You just don’t know how this virus is going to evolve. It’s more of a calling now than ever.
What are your hopes?
I hope that the community comes out more cohesive — it’s interesting to think the pandemic has unified not only this country, but the world. I see people in NYC, the nation’s most diverse city, interacting with each other differently. We have this thing we’re going through together. People give me nods.
I hope this will open up channels for us to share resources and knowledge; I hope we work together rather than maintain our lives in these silos; I hope that we all have more respect and humility towards these larger forces we can’t control. We’re not invincible. We are vulnerable to things we could never anticipate.
What are you listening to?
I’ve found myself going back to the music that I used to love. Upbeat top 40 pop: Beyoncé, Taylor Swift. It’s familiar and comforting.
