Privilege, perseverance and the pandemic

Good morning.

Today will be a guest columnist version of VC Notes, written by Dr. Zeb Henson, associate professor of medicine in the division of Med-Peds and the director of the Med-Peds residency program. Dr. Henson is a UMMC School of Medicine grad and completed his residency here. He is a hypertension specialist who is known as a compassionate care giver and respected educator. He is also a member of the Nelson Order, which recognizes faculty members for their exemplary teaching abilities as decided by student voting.

I have known Dr Henson since he was a medical student and a resident here at UMMC. He has earned tremendous respect from his classmates, fellow residents and now colleagues far and wide. In many ways, he exemplifies the professional we all strive to be. I was glad he agreed to share a few thoughts with us today about how he has processed and handled life as a clinician and medical educator during a pandemic. We all can benefit from what he wrote. Enjoy!

—  —  —

“How are you?”

For 10 plus years that’s how I’ve begun most of my clinic visits.  As an internist and pediatrician dealing predominately with diseases like high blood pressure, obesity and high cholesterol, the answers typically revolved around progress with medicines, eating habits and exercise. For years that defined “how we’re doing.” 

Not anymore - at least not right now. So often over the last 18 months answers to this simple question have more transparently exposed the frailty of working in health care during this pandemic. “I’m making it…barely.” “How are any of us doing?” “I guess I’m OK…I could be worse.” These are the new answers to what was once a polite, don’t-go-too-deep question. 

One of the many things the COVID-19 pandemic has taught me, and I hope you, is that it’s understandable to not feel like you’re OK. It’s OK to struggle; it’s OK to be tired; and it’s OK to be frustrated. Then, even in your admission that everything may not be OK, you press on. You answer the ring of your morning alarm. You get up, get ready, and go back at it again. 

In spite of a familiar Groundhog Day-feeling, you continue to answer your call, even when your daily frustrations seem to be just a platform for someone else’s disagreement, or when the praise of the pseudo-celebrity “frontline health care worker” has long since grown tiresome. You recognize that it’s acceptable to persevere when perseverance feels impossible.

Why? What is it that allows such perseverance that others may not share in their lines of work? Certainly, there is a sense that we must. As the state’s leader in health care, at times we feel like we have no choice. But we also share something that goes beyond necessity, and that is privilege. Our resolve is that we are all most centrally driven by the high calling of the profession of health care, no matter our specific role. 

Our privilege lies in recognizing the dignity of the patients we care for in spite of our fatigue and frustration. Our privilege exists as we get to do it — not someone else, not another hospital or another provider, but us. The COVID-19 pandemic is only a fascinating, albeit inconvenient, news story for many; but for those of us at this hospital, it’s been a tool to demonstrate the high privilege we share in our calling. 

However, you and I have to remember that so often a tool cannot do its job without inflicting some discomfort. I’ve had to re-learn that simple fact during these long months. If COVID-19 has been the tool to teach me again the high privilege of this calling, the uniqueness of this institution, and the dignity of every patient that walks through our doors, it has done its work by chiseling me away to the point of exhaustion and frustration. Like many, I have had my seasons of not being OK, but like each of you, I have been uplifted, even when not OK, by the profession we are called to do and the patients we care for.

Not long ago, the Office of Communications and Marketing posted a story highlighting the success of our institution’s COVID-19 follow-up clinic. That story happened to be published in the middle of one my own “not OK” seasons (and I have had more than my fair share of those seasons recently). However, the story highlighted the recovery of one of the very first COVID-19 patients I cared for in 2020, a patient I truly did not think was going to survive. 

That story sounded the reminder to me that because nurses, respiratory therapists, residents, hospitalists, intensivists and so many more answered their call to participate in the high privilege of our mission, this gentleman is now home and recovered. His wife is not a widow and his children are not without a father because the people at this institution answered their call, even if all wasn’t OK.

As we continue to press ahead into month 20 of the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s important to realize that if there are times we’re not OK, we’re also not alone in that feeling. As caregivers, let’s be certain to take care of ourselves, to take advantage of community (safely), to pay attention to our own physical and mental health, and to look after each other. 

Then, together as an institution, we will be able to continue in the high privilege of our calling for this state and for our patients.

—  —  —

Thank you, Dr. Henson, for opening up some and giving us a glimpse of how you’ve been able to process and react to the kind of pandemic-driven struggles that we’ve all had over the past 19+ months. Let’s make a promise to give each other a break sometimes AND extend that same courtesy to ourselves.