Pandemic Parables: Regression

Pandemic Parables: Regression
Thursday July 2nd 2020

Some wonderful backward steps have been going on in the hospital in Frederick, Maryland, where I am working as a Resident Chaplain until the end of August. As of yesterday there are only five confirmed Coronavirus patients in the hospital.

That’s it!

There is no one under investigation, and one hundred and ninety-one virus positive patients have been released so far. This is the lowest number of Covid-19 patients in the hospital since the very early days of the pandemic.

My insides did a somersault of joy when I read that news.

(But the chaplains are praying fervently for medical centers in other parts of the country where Covid-19 cases are on the upsurge.)

Meanwhile in our hospital there has been a dialing back – a regression – on other fronts also.

The gowns!

It is widely known that there has been a major shortage of personal protective equipment (PPE), particularly disposable gowns, throughout the country during this pandemic. (It is one of the main reasons that chaplains have not been able to go into any isolation rooms – whether the patient has Covid-19 or any other type of virus.)

There has been such a lack that some places resorted to having their medical staff wear trash bags to enter Coronavirus patients’ rooms.

Horror upon horrors!

Thanks to our wonderful volunteers stepping up and making gowns, and a supply of hairdresser style long capes that seemed to miraculously appear, that never happened at our hospital.

Work has been going on feverishly behind the scenes to source disposable gowns. Yesterday we discovered via an update email that the Procurement Team has been successful. The hospital now has – wait for it – one hundred and seventy thousand disposable isolation gowns in their supply chain! They use about a thousand gowns a day, apparently, which means that they have a hundred and seventy-day supply.

Because of that they are going to start transitioning back to disposable gowns.

The email also said that the hospital was in the process of stocking “…a year supply of medical grade reusable gowns. These will be stored for use in the event of an unforeseen supply chain disruption, similar to what we experienced with COVID-19”.

The inventiveness, dedication, and ingenuity of the senior leadership has been inspirational to behold. We have been well led during this season.

An aside.

A large placard on a stand appeared outside the offices used by the CEO and the other top brass a couple of weeks ago. Their doors are on the second floor abutting a corridor with high foot traffic. It is a main artery to the staff parking garage.

The sign says: “Thank you to our Senior Leaders. Your exemplary leadership has encouraged and inspired everyone at Frederick Health.”

I smile at it when I pass by several times a day, and always nod in agreement. 

Back to the gowns!

I had the email at the top of my mind when I walked past the volunteer conference room with its twenty-four seater, enormous, oval wooden table. There was the volunteer director and her assistant folding gown upon reusable gown that had been delivered early that morning crumpled from the makeshift downstairs laundry. They have been doing this for weeks.

“Your folding days are coming to an end I understand,” I said.

Without missing a beat in her folding rhythm the director said: “Yes! There are far fewer gowns today, and hopefully there will be less each day as they soil the stock they have and transition into their disposable supply.”

Pointing to the stack of neatly folded gowns she continued: “Our incredible volunteers have made seven thousand of them. Well almost. They have all been cut out and some are still being sown. They will be stored as the email said, in case we ever need them in a similar crisis in the future.

May that never happen!

I was amazed by the sheer volume! “Seven thousand!”

“Yes,” said the director, “Many of the volunteers originally thought they were going to make cloth masks but they were presented with boxes and boxes of plastic, elastic, and glue and were told they were assembling face shields instead. And they pitched right in and did so. And then we came to the shortage of the gowns. As I told you before, someone in the department who is a master seamstress designed the prototype gown, made the pattern, and passed it on to those volunteers who can sew. They are over in the Annex right now. Still sewing!”

“I am so impressed!” I said.

The director nodded, smiling. Yes,” she responded. They want to get every last gown finished before they leave. Most of the team are in their 80’s but there is one spry young thing in her 40’s. They decided to use this time as an opportunity to teach the community how to sew. So we put out advertisements everywhere publicizing free sewing classes. Guess how many we got?”

I had no idea.

“One! One person responded,” said the director. Well two really. The person who wanted to learn was under eighteen so she had to come with her mother.”

Such a missed opportunity! But I sympathized. I never learned to sew because I was always scared of the sounds the machines made…

Once again I marveled at the folded stacks of gowns, and the selfless industriousness, and dedication of the team that had come together to create such needed largess.

Then I remembered that my nurse practitioner friend told me that when she had a meeting in the new hospital annex, she passed by the cafeteria. Peeking in, she was astonished to see elderly ladies socially distancing and sewing feverishly.

“I felt like I’d stumbled into a secret sweat shop,” she said. Except they were all laughing and having a marvelous time in front of their machines while chatting up a storm. I had no idea what was going on until later.”

The intensity of work that has gone on by dedicated volunteers over the last few months is extraordinary.

I asked the director how we could ensure that no one forgets. Especially now that we are regressing back to the way we were – at least as far as gowns are concerned.

“Well!” she said. “The head volunteer, who has been leading this effort, is talented in so many ways. And it turns out that one of her passions is scrap booking. So she has photographed and documented this whole Coronavirus volunteer aid program step by step from the first days.”

That’s when a thought hit me. A friend of mine, whom I love dearly, is on the library board of the Smithsonian. She told me that they were looking for diaries and descriptions of everyday life during the Coronavirus. They will become first hand sources for researchers in the future.

I excitedly told the director about the Smithsonian project. 

"Wouldn’t it be incredible if they took the scrapbook” She exclaimed.

“Yes!” I declared. "Lord! Let it be. Let it be.”

“That will put a pep in the volunteers’ steps” said the director. “Understandably they are exhausted. They are starting to fade. The thought of their work inspiring future generations will delight them to the last stitch!”

I walked away grinning at the thought and continued doing my daily rounds.

I began thinking about the word “regression.” We might be able to go backwards when it comes to gowns – although the hospital has a current stock unlike anything they had before – but we can’t go back in other things.

Our realities have changed.

In many ways we will have to let go of the certainties of the past to grasp hold of a still uncertain future.

It reminds me of a time, many years ago when I worked as one of the sixteen pastors at what was then the largest church in England. The senior pastor had been a ballet dancer with the Royal Ballet. In other words he had danced at the highest levels and was incredibly flexible. One time he illustrated a point during another staff member’s sermon. The central verse was Philippians 3:13 “…Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead.”

The Senior Pastor leapt on the stage in his well-cut suit and moved one leg back as though it was determined to stay in the past, and let the other go forward as though embracing the future. Much to the delight of the thousand seater multinational church he ended up doing the splits. It illustrated beautifully, and with no material tearing, that we can’t go forward if we are still attached to the past.

I proved that to myself in a far less elegant way the other day. I was racing out of the office when my jacket got caught on the door. The jacket was made from stretchy material and so I plunged forward before being jerked to a standstill. Laughing, I literally let myself off the hook, released what was holding me back, before going onward. 

We have all endured so much during this Coronavirus season. Summer is now here and we long for the rituals of past years.

Cook outs. Fireworks. Gatherings of family and friends.

We want to go to restaurants, and theaters, and cinemas, and not have to worry about infecting others or being infected. We want to go back to an easier simpler time.

A few months ago.

Back when there were certainties, and income, and what now seems like relative peace of mind.

But we can’t. That land of yesterday doesn’t exist anymore.

The future is uncertain. But even so, may we embrace whatever is coming with a sense of anticipation. An adventure in the making.

May we know deep inside the marrow of our bones that as things have worked out in the past, so they will in the future.

Our worlds are being shaken, and shaken, and shaken some more. May the dust, and grit, and grime of our lives fall through the Divine Miner’s sieve leaving nuggets of gold behind.

May we remember who we are, and why we were created. What gives us joy.

And may we have the courage to pursue that wholeheartedly. In a way, regress to the real version of ourselves, before we were forced to put on emotional armor to survive.

And we may we know with great certainty, and in new ways, daily – that the God who made us to be fulfilled, and creative, and living life abundantly, is there in our future. And that He, the Lord, high above all other lords, is longing for us to finally become all that He created us to be.

So whatever form our tomorrows take. No matter what has been stripped away.

What remains will be good.