A smile, a nod, a clap, a honk, a bow, a “thank you” - all greet me on my commute to and from work these days. The first time someone yelled “Hey! Thank you for your service!” I was so surprised that I nearly tripped. The second time, I couldn’t tell if the old man pointing his finger at me was scolding me for looking down at my phone with headphones in as I walked across the street, or if he was thanking me. The third time, I blushed. The swell of emotions when complete strangers have acknowledged me during these unusual times is overwhelming. Here is why:
The first thing I often feel is guilt. There is not a single part of me that feels that I deserve this praise. Yes, I am a resident physician working at a hospital in the epicenter of a pandemic, but for me, it’s not what it may seem from the outside. I spend most of my day behind a screen, clicking away, placing orders, checking labs, rounding with the team, and writing notes. I peek my head into my patients’ rooms but largely rely on the nurses, respiratory therapists, fellows and attending physicians for the close physical exam and majority of patient interactions. I don’t sit at a patient’s bedside or hold their hand as I normally would. I call family members to give them updates and to discuss their loved ones’ condition, but I am never really able to give them what they really want: reassurance, a timeline, the chance to visit; because these are things that this virus has made it nearly impossible to provide. I always feel that I should be doing more but have to remind myself that I am doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. It never feels like it is enough.
Then there is the swell of pride. “I did work very hard for many years to get to become a physician! I am walking to work at 6:30 on a beautiful Sunday morning to work a full day when I would honestly rather be sleeping. I should be thanked!” This feeling is superficial and fleeting. I am immediately humbled by the thought of thousands of other people who put their lives at risk every day and have made tremendous sacrifices to continue working in healthcare and other essential work. I quickly swallow my pride.
The most powerful feeling when these innumerable strangers have thanked me is happiness. In a city where everyone is in such close proximity but is normally so distanced from one another, this moment of connectedness is special. These people; young, old, men, women, all feel so grateful for the work that hospital workers are doing that they are so moved to stop me and say thank you. In what other world have people acknowledged and thanked others, especially in a bustling city where everyone usually minds their own business? I know they are not thanking me, but they are thanking everyone that I work with, all of the nurses, therapists, techs, social workers, cleaning staff, that have been working tirelessly and constantly putting themselves at risk of both illness and emotional distress. These moments of acknowledgment show me that people are kind, people are grateful, and sometimes it takes extraordinary times to make that manifest. There is hope that this test to our city and to humanity as a whole will ultimately teach us to be kinder towards everyone. These two-second interactions may be a tiny glimpse into that future.