There’s an ongoing joke that I’m the “black sheep” in my family. I’m the creative in a sea full of science minds.
I make a living as a freelance writer and piano teacher in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., but I was born and raised in Pittsburgh and return frequently to visit my family.
My parents are both internists affiliated with a local hospital. My sister is a nurse at the same hospital, working on her nurse practitioner degree, and my brother is an emergency medicine doctor there. My other sister is an internal medicine resident at another local hospital; she will become chief resident there soon. My third sister is a local veterinarian.
When news of the coronavirus first emerged, I listened cautiously. I knew my family would be working on the front lines, and I was worried about my boyfriend and me living in a bigger city like Washington, D.C. My worst fears are coming true. I am so incredibly frightened by the uncertainty of this pandemic. I had an intense panic attack about it earlier this month that made me physically ill for the whole day.
My parents are 64 and 65. They are right at the beginning of the age window for those most at risk for COVID-19. I was so scared for them as I knew they did not have access to the safer N95 masks. Thank goodness, they have now transferred to telehealth sessions in the safety of their home. However, my mom still goes to Giant Eagle for groceries, which makes my heart skip a beat every time I hear she is there. Not to mention, they both could retire but choose to continue working for the love of medicine and helping people. I know that sometimes puts unnecessary stress on them.
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My family is made up of healthcare workers. Here’s my tale of anxiety and lots of prayer.
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