This week has started off oddly. I am at home. I am not on vacation. I wish I were. Instead, I am at home in a sort of self-quarantine.
Last week, as I was getting ready to go to work I noticed that I was coughing. Initially I thought that I was had a tickle in my throat and that I just needed to clear it. But the cough persisted.
At our institution our outpatient faculty clinics had already instituted a strict screening policy. All visitors to the building were funneled to the main entrance. There, two people screen any person entering regardless of whether they are visitor or employee.
The questions each day were the same. Have you had a new fever? Have you had a new cough? Any shortness of breath? Any contact with known COVID19 patient? If all questions were answered with a negative, they would hand you a sticker that said “Cleared” and a face mask.
I knew that I would fail the screening. I also knew we had a shortage of tests. I would not be eligible for testing. And, the institutional policy for returning to work with new symptoms would require me to wait a minimum of 7 days.
So here I am. At home. Avoiding contact not only with patients but with my co-workers. I understand the reason for the policy. With the pandemic we must do everything we can to minimize spread of this COVID-19 disease.
Each day I have checked my temperature. Each day I have not had a fever. My cough has improved each day. And on National Doctor’s Day, while this pandemic rages, and my healthcare colleagues continue the fight, I sit and I wait.
