Bryan worked nine days straight, and is now nearing the end of a three-day weekend (where the emphasis has been on resting and relaxing). He is back at it on Monday, where he will start a 12-day straight stint. And I'm betting it's going to be a 12 days to remember.
I'm also betting you'll be surprised to know: Bryan has yet to treat a COVID-19 patient. So, what the heck has this infectious disease doctor been doing?
Well, surprise, surprise the hospitals are also full of other sick people. He's still somewhere in the ballpark of 35-40 patients per day, rounding in multiple hospitals every day and seeing patients in clinic on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. He did run a few coronavirus tests, and guess what? All of those so far (still waiting on like four) came back negative. Turns out there are other upper respiratory viruses running around town. Hello, rhino virus and human metapneumo virus.
Just like your place of employment, Bryan and his partners had to navigate a new set of rules and landscape for their employees. And when your business is an infectious disease practice, that's, well, busy and a bit intense. Instead of sending coworkers home, they are mobilizing everyone for battle, practically, against this beast of a virus.
His practice will hopefully participate in a drug trial for COVID-19. This means he attended meetings and went through a 20-module training (in one night, mind you) as they try to fast track this process.
Speaking of meetings, he attended meeting after meeting, most of which were called last minute, as happens when a pandemic reaches your neighborhood. He, along with his partners, serve on many boards and roles in various hospitals here in Fort Worth. They discussed protocols and worst case scenarios, making plans for what to do and when.
He consulted other physicians, answering dozens of texts and phone calls from other doctors who have patients who's exhibiting this and that, and what would he recommend in this or that situation, and so on and so forth.
He answered dozens of texts, emails, and phone calls from friends and family, wondering what in the world is going on, where they can get tested, and what he thinks about this or that.
He participated in a video interview with our church, answering questions about coronavirus in our community.
He gladly gowned up dozens of times in multiple hospitals to treat any patient that showed signs of respiratory symptoms, which slows him down in terms of how many patients he sees per hour.
And more. There's even more that I can't say.
Did I mention Bryan -- and his fellow physicians -- did all of this while still seeing other 35-45 patients per day? He is my hero, and I think he has the cred to be yours too.
I am gigantically proud of him and scared for him. If I'm honest, I'm scared for me, hahaha. I don't want him or any of us to contract coronavirus. As the afternoon keeps marching us forward to Monday, I hate the idea of him going back. I'm selfish. I want him here, safe and sound with me. Yet, one of the reasons I admire him so is his faithfulness, sense of duty, and eagerness to help those who need him.
So, he will wake up at 4:30 a.m. on Monday and head out the door by five. I'll call him like every two hours and ask, "Have you seen a coronavirus patient yet?" Like last week, I'll let out a sigh when he says no. I dread the moment when he says yes.
