Thanksgiving feels different this year. The once vibrant autumn leaves seem dulled, the days more cloudy, the pumpkin spice lattes less festive. Oh yeah, that's what burnout feels like. Approaching the two year mark into this pandemic, I'm not the same person I was before.
I used to tell everyone that I loved people, that I was a people person. I used to easily find the good in everyone and cherish the little moments of humanity shared with my patients. I used to feel a sense of devotion and calling to sacrifice myself to try to fill the cracks of our broken healthcare system. I haven't seen that person in a while.
At the start of this pandemic, we as healthcare workers rolled up our sleeves, hugged our families, and threw ourselves head-first into the frightening unknown of this virus. I personally sacrificed my health and ended up hospitalized with COVID-19 during the first wave while trying to care for complete strangers. The patients who once thanked me for my service now roll their eyes when I ask them to put on their masks so I can examine them. Every nose out of a mask in the metro is like a punch in the face. Every maskless person on the bus is a kick to the gut. Every anti-vax person is a painful reminder of how I could have easily lost my life to this virus.
The conspiracy theories run rampant and we continue to see vaccine hesitancy brought about by false claims and poorly disseminated health information. I feel like science rejecters and myself live on completely different planes of existence, with a framework of reality so different from mine I can't even begin to understand their perspectives. When I examine their newborns in the nursery, I feel a sense of longing and a twinge of jealousy; they are so pure and innocent, not yet hurt by the world. People care about them, want to help them, want to love them. Their cries pierce my soul because instead of the joy of new life I see flashbacks to young mothers on ventilators barely pulling through.
So while I recognize my privilege in life and in this field, I also continue to live and breathe the collective trauma that many have now left behind. While I am thankful for the development of these life-saving vaccines, it is a thankless thanksgiving to have to watch so many die simply because they refuse to take it.
