Life in Everett Journals: Robyn Lang

Editor’s Note: Originally published May 25, 2020. Republished December 17, 2020.

Editor’s Note: This is part of a series of journal entries from members of our community as we adapt to stay at home orders during the COVID-19 outbreak. I’ve gone back and forth wondering if these entries will fit the “Good Things” focus of Live in Everett, but everything about relating, connecting and learning from our neighbors is a Good Thing. ~Linda

JOURNAL ENTRY: 9

Robyn Lang

Assistant Nurse Manager, PreOp and PACU
Providence Regional Medical Center, Everett

Everyone wants to know what is happening in the hospital. There’s a morbid curiosity surrounding this crisis – people tune in to the news stories that show bodies being loaded into trucks in New York, and they turn curious eyes to the 10 story building that dominates North Everett. The building is silent. As I drive up into the parking garage, it is emptier than normal.

Before I leave my car, I put on my mask. I have to use my badge to enter the hospital – the majority of the doors are locked, and visitors and family members are not allowed. I walk by a couple who is embracing. They are both tearful. He is checking in for open heart surgery, and he wipes his eyes as he turns and walks into the hospital, leaving his wife hugging herself at the door. The door screener and I make eye contact. He looks at my badge and lets me pass.

I arrive on my unit, take my temperature, and sign my attestation of health for the day. I head out to round in the unit – I am part of a team of 5 that works together to run the PreOp and PostOp section of the hospital, 130 nurses in all. What used to take me thirty minutes now takes me upwards of two hours. Since the governor cancelled elective surgeries, we are operating at about 35% of our usual case volume.

Our staff has been redeployed throughout the hospital. They are manning the doors, working in Clinical Research, Caregiver Health, the Command Center, Fit Testing N95 Masks, performing COVID tests, and assisting on the inpatient medical floors and ICU. I try to make contact with everyone, more often than not I fail.

I go to meetings to discuss changes in the infection control policy, which I then communicate with the team, only to learn that it has already changed. I collect worries, complaints, and concerns. Everyone is on edge, everyone is afraid. PPE is being monitored and locked to prevent theft. We are implementing and reevaluating policies daily, hourly. We are doing our best to keep our people safe. I haven’t been able to breathe since March 16th. I keep the panic at bay by gasp-crying in my car.

But… I dry my eyes and look around. In the middle of a pandemic, we are heralded as heroes. I see chalk drawings on the sidewalks done by local children. There are thank you cards plastered on the walls and on poster boards in the cafeteria. Local restaurants donate food, my church brings Easter baskets. People sew masks out of OR drapes so I can be safe. I have never felt more loved by my community, I have never seen the public care for me like this. Maybe there is hope in this, somewhere.

2020 is the Year of the Nurse. I drive home later than normal, knowing I will repeat this all tomorrow. I also know that it is my privilege to walk into this silent, lonely building and stand in the gap for those who are alone and afraid, to be a light in the darkness, to be a nurse.