Recently the powers that be have put a stay-at-home order in place for the county I live in. It seems simple: stay at home unless you’re going to the grocery store, bank, gas station, or doctor. All “non-essential” workers are to work from home. According to the government, the group of essential workers is comprised of gas station employees, garbage collectors, emergency safety personnel, grocery store workers, commercial employees, bankers, pet store employees, janitorial staff, probably many others I’m forgetting, and health care workers (hi, that’s technically me).
I’ve been thinking a LOT about what being “essential” means. I’ve seen so many memes going around the internet about being an essential worker during a global pandemic. Most are funny, some are a bit on-the-nose, and some are honestly quite tacky. There are seemingly endless exemptions for who counts as “essential workers,” and yet there are also countless posts on social media discussing how to survive when you don’t leave your house for days on end. It is really hard to conceptualize exactly what’s going on for most people. There are a thousand things to unpack about self-isolation, quarantine, and social distancing, especially in terms of ableism, economic racism, the prison system, and how America’s capitalist structures are working out throughout this pandemic. As vitally important as these conversations are, there are many others more qualified to discuss them than I am, and I encourage you to seek out those conversations and maybe do some unlearning within yourself; I certainly know I have. I also find myself coming back to a really uncomfortable feeling in myself that I’m not hearing anyone else talk about. I don’t know if others in a similar situation as me are feeling this, so if you are, I’d love to chat. If not, at least at the end of this I’ll have cathartically word-vomited my feelings onto this page.
I work in outpatient pediatric occupational therapy. I love my job, I love my kids, I love my coworkers. I wake up most days really excited to go to work. I usually see about eleven kids a day for forty-five minutes at a time. Because the regular (once and twice a week) appointments of our kids are considered medical appointments, our families are exempt from the stay-at-home order to come to the clinic, and the therapists are exempt in order to come to work every day. About half of my families have chosen to forgo therapy until the pandemic is over; some have elected to continue through telehealth (a completely separate discussion about skilled services/ethics surrounds that). The other half is (at least for now) still coming in-person once or twice a week. Our usual cleaning practices have been upped: children and therapists wash their hands before and after sessions, high touch-points are cleaned every hour, and toys and games are cleaned after each use. I’ve reduced my personal risk factors as well: I haven’t been anywhere but work and home for the past two weeks. I don’t go to the grocery store anymore, I don’t visit my sister or my parents, I don’t even take walks around my block because there’s too many people out. My birthday is on Tuesday, and I’m not doing a single thing but going to work and coming home. I still feel like absolute trash walking out of my apartment, knowing I am putting my kids and their families at risk. Because that’s the bottom line; anyone can be infected and not even know it.
I find myself sitting between valuing my job and the services I provide for these kids, while also truly believing that it’s probably better for them to be safe at home and away from the clinic that typically has at least fifty to seventy kids a day walking through the doors, not to mention their parents/caregivers, siblings, etc. I do think that I provide essential services…over the course of a long period of time. I do think that my kids who aren’t getting therapy right now are going to lose progress we’ve made, in some cases very drastically. I fully believe that occupational therapy is a valuable service that makes a positive difference in the lives of my kids.
I also feel helpless against this virus. My mental health is in the toilet, and I hear over and over in my head, “I should have picked something truly essential.” My partner’s sister is a doctor. A real MD, saving lives, frontlines in the hospital doctor. That’s essential. I was wearing scrubs a few days ago and a neighbor called out, “thank you for what you do.” I was immediately filled with shame and (rightful?) imposter syndrome. She thought I was someone actually essential. My brain is needling my heart saying, “you should have picked doctor or nurse; fuck, even acute care OT would be more essential than what you’re doing right now. My brain scoffs at me saying, “really?? You think outpatient therapy is worth putting lives at risk for?” I know it’s a privilege to even have a job right now when so many others are without a paycheck. I can’t afford to take the next few months off either. I’m left with this gross feeling somewhere between valuing what I do and hating myself for doing it.
I don’t really have an answer for this. My gut reactions to things on the internet range from these sick feelings of pride when included in this nightmare club called “essential workers,” to extreme fear for my family(ies) and friends, to numb disbelief. I cry every day. My intrusive thoughts are edging toward an all-time high. I don’t know if I would feel better if I was in acute care. I don’t know if I would feel less helpless as a doctor or nurse. It’s entirely possible that I’d have the exact same feeling in the pit of my stomach for an entirely different reason. All I know is this shit sucks. I’m not okay. I don’t think anyone is okay. And I don’t know what to do about it. If you find out, let me know.
I hope we all get through this. I miss loving my job.
Shoes and Shortcakes 