Post-Traumatic Stress: This is My Story

I sit here holding your hand with my gloved hand, stroking it gently with my thumb back and forth and back and forth. I look into your eyes and give you a look to reassure you. We spend time together - me exchanging words with you, making sounds, or humming a song through my face mask and goggles. Your breaths become rapid. We call your family. They get to see you one last time. They cry, but you give them a look that everything will be alright. You are at peace. Your vitals are dropping and breaths become even more rapid. You look back at me and close your eyes. 

Working the frontlines over the last few months has been incredibly rewarding yet exhausting, touching yet sad, hopeful yet hopeless, all at the same time. I’m one of the many that sit with your loved ones or patients with dementia day in and day out as they struggle with COVID-19. I’m the one of many that help feed and take care of them. I’m the one of many that rush to grab the oxygen when they are...

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