Westmead Dermatology From: A mum and a doctor.
To: My 6-month old daughter.
My darling Anna,
I write you this letter to say I am so so sorry that I have failed you as a mother. I have been trying to quell the panic that has been slowly rising over the last few weeks as this pandemic worsens. I have been going to work, seeing my patients and continuing to do what I always thought, I was born to do. But today, I hang my head in despair at the futility of the problem I face.
I have been thinking about your grandma, who has been in the front line for the last few weeks as a GP, trying to help all her sick patients, putting her own health at risk, working extra shifts. She is being accused by these same patients for not doing enough, for denying them access to testing for the virus. They don’t understand that these test kits are a finite resource and fast running out. Your grandma is such an inspirational woman she continues to go to work despite all this, even whilst she worries about your grandpa, who is one of those ‘vulnerable’ patients. I know she feels guilty that she is placing him at risk by serving her community.
I am scared for your aunty Maz, who is a paediatric trainee and has been redeployed to the frontline. She is ready to treat the young ones who may be infected by the virus. She’s putting herself and her family at risk everyday doing emergency clinics so that sick babies and children can get better.
I feel sad about your Aunty Vas, who has had her wedding cancelled because of the global pandemic and is hiding her devastation so well. She continues to go to work and deliver babies and treat very sick women who really need her help. She is having to covering for a sick colleague.
I worry about my junior doctors who are preparing to get re-deployed from their usual roles to the frontline this week. They have had their leave cancelled indefinitely as they have been told we need all hands on deck to face the crisis that is unfolding around us. They have been warned that they will be moved to roles and duties that may be beyond their training and expertise. They are the foot soldiers in this war, conscripted and sacrificed. Their futures in limbo, their lives in jeopardy.
And I try to tell you that it is only a matter of time before mummy is also enlisted to fight in the frontline. You know mummy is happy to do it. She may not have the skills (she is really better at detecting melanoma than fighting a virus) but she will stand with her comrades and willingly go into battle to keep her community safe. At the end of the day, it’s all hands on deck when the ship is sinking.
I am sorry my darling girl that you won’t be seeing all your close family for a quite a while. I hope it’s only a few months but realistically it could be longer. We have decided to keep you safe my darling and keep the community safe, by not meeting up, face to face, anymore. I am sorry you won’t get to play with your aunties and your grandma, because they are soldiers and are fighting in the frontlines. We want to do the right thing by you and by the community and not expose everyone to the same risks we are facing. I am hopeful you will understand one day.
And like you our Australian community will eventually recognise the scale of the disaster we face. However, I am doubtful if it will come soon enough to avoid the devastating death tolls that are mirrored in the nations across the world that have faced the fight before us. I am saddened that we are squandering the opportunity that we have been given to address this crisis. I am devastated that the community are not yet heeding the warnings which could blunt the impact of the virus.
As you crawl towards me and give me a big, innocent, gummy smile, I sit unresponsive, pondering about the months that lie ahead. I worry that whilst all the hospitals, medical practices and medical staff ramp up as best as they know how, ultimately the patient load ahead will likely cause our health system to strain and then buckle. I am scared about how much death I will see in the coming months.
Whilst my medical colleagues and I, all around the nation, begin marching into battle with an enemy we can’t see, with no weapons to fight them with, woefully under-prepared and completely outnumbered, all I wish is that our people would give us fair chance, doing their part to help stop the spread of the virus.
That’s not too much to ask, is it, my darling?
Tevi Wain
Staff Specialist
Department of Dermatology
Westmead Hospital
