A Doctor on Lockdown

These are weird times.  And weird times call for strange interventions.

At the time of writing this, my clinic is working at half capacity.  We see sick patients at the clinic and are trying to do most of the other visits via Telehealth.

Patients seem to appreciate this.   They are worried about exposure and nervous about coming to the office.

It feels like the calm before the storm.  We’re just waiting for things to hit the fan.

We have a team meeting.  We discuss the latest recommendations.

We discuss PPE.

Supply check?

Nope. What supplies?

Yesterday, I saw patients at the nursing home.

They all had their TVs on.  Mostly watching the news except for a few that had Andy Griffith playing.  They looked outside their window with curiosity and confusion.  No visitors would be seeing them today.  This may be the worst part of the lockdown.

I review labs.  COVID testing negative.   That’s good.   So far, at my office, we’ve only had a couple of positives.

I get to thinking about a patient.  The one with paranoid schizophrenia. The one off his meds.  The one fresh out of jail.  The one that was supposed to show up last week.

I worry he’ll see all the people in masks and his paranoia will go into overdrive.  I worry about what the voices will tell him.

I call a patient.  His factory is shut down.  He won’t be getting paid for the foreseeable future.  He’s stressed and anxious and applying for unemployment.

A friend of mine works for a divorce lawyer.  She jokes that her job will always be secure no matter the crisis.

I call an insurance company.  They shall remain nameless.  I need approval for a patient’s medicine.  They want to know if he is transgender.  I don’t know why that matters.  (But in this time of crisis, that’s what they want to know.)

I tell my patient that a good lawyer could make a fortune off the unethical abuse of these insurance companies.  He tells me that “good lawyer” is an oxymoron.   He can say this….because he is a lawyer.

I have an elderly patient show up.  She needs labs to make sure her blood is not too thin.  She’s one of my favorites (but I tell all my patients that).   My nurse makes sure she has someone going to the grocery store for her, and she’s not around large crowds.

I get a call about a hospice patient.  He’s dying from cancer.  I order medication to try and help make him more comfortable.

I get a call from someone that’s running a fever.  Cough? Yes.  Shortness of breath? Yes.  Okay, she needs to come in and get checked.  I’ll have her park out back, and we will triage her in the car.

Sometimes I get a flashback of Nicaragua.

I check the PMP on a patient that is scheduled for later today.

The PMP stands for Prescription Monitoring Program.

It shows me what “controlled” medications have been filled by this patient in the past year.  I confirm that the patient is not “doctor shopping” and not trying to get prescriptions filled for nefarious use.

I take a call.  The patient has an appointment next week but needed to talk today.  Her sister recently passed.  She’s grieving normally but needs someone to talk to.

I call my next patient.  He was recently diagnosed with lung cancer and has started radiation and chemo.  He’s handling things okay (or at least as well as one might expect).  His specialists have ordered new treatments, and he wants to make sure I agree with this.  I tell him that I do, and he seems relieved.

The next patient is here for a diabetic check.  She has a history of cancer and blood clots.  She also needs lab work.   She asks me about my family.  She tells me she’s praying for us.

I call another patient.  I haven’t seen her in several months.  She has bipolar disorder and a history of drug use.  She wants to know why she can’t have a prescription for Xanax.  I try to explain.  She then comes to the clinic and my nurse talks to her.

I take a coffee break.  Check the obituaries and read the comics.

I’ll work from home tomorrow.   Calling patients.   Calling pharmacies.

My iPhone….now more important than my stethoscope.

My next patient has hypothyroidism.  We talk over the phone and reschedule her labs for next month.

Hoping things will be normal by then.

But what’s normal really?

In these strange times, nothing seems normal.

Maybe that’s the point.

And maybe that’s okay.

Because we’re going to get through this thing…

Whatever it is.

And just remember that when the world seems be caving in on itself, there’s 3 things that no virus or economic collapse can take from you…..

Faith.

Hope.

Love.

Thanks for reading and I’ll catch you guys on the flip side.