Working in the Covid ICU has been a long, trying journey. A journey full of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. A journey that has strength in the fights, and heartache in the losses. A journey that has revealed both the fear and the fearlessness, in us nurses. Over the years as events and opinions have slowly driven a wedge between the American people, I truly believed that this pandemic would be the time that we would see inspiring unity, grace, and understanding among one another. Last year we were faced with our Goliath, Covid-19. And by growing, breaking, losing, winning, and banding together; we became the stone shot from David’s hands. We flattened the curve. We were fighting together. We were beating this little by little. Or so we thought. Our nation quickly divided further than it was before. Political views wrecked lifelong relationships and prevented new ones from forming. People judge others and make assumptions. Last year, judgment was based almost only on political stances. This year, judgment is based on vaccination status. From there, your political stance is assumed, and the person you are on the inside, your heart, no longer matters to anyone who sees slightly different.

I’ve been a Nurse in our Covid ICU since the beginning. I’ve seen what this virus does to the body and no matter how “good” the patient looks, I’ve become accustomed to being prepared to increase oxygen flow, exchange delivery methods, and page respiratory and the doctor in a matter of minutes because things change fast. Covid-19 used to mostly attack older patients with comorbidities and/or patients with serious underlying conditions. Vaccines were developed and many across the world received their doses, and many were hesitant, including me. I’m young and healthy and don’t have children yet. I eat mostly healthy foods and exercise regularly. I read extensively about each vaccine. I read the published studies and results and followed the ongoing research. I followed the CDC guidelines and recommendations for unvaccinated persons and was confident in my decision of not getting the vaccine at the time. Vaccine mandates are now being enforced in many colleges and places of work. When I received the email delivering the mandate to federal employees, I was scared. I was mad. But I still did not want to get the vaccine yet. I believe I’m a smart person. I follow the research of Covid and the vaccines. I know and understand the benefit of being vaccinated and the risks of being unvaccinated. I’m not an “anti-vax” person. I never talk or rant about my opinions to my coworkers or patients. I continue to encourage all at-risk individuals to talk with their doctors to become correctly informed and get their vaccine. I continue to follow CDC guidelines and recommendations and continue to work in the Covid ICU.

Throughout this year, I have never witnessed so many people talk to, and about, other people in such an ugly, heart-wrenching way. Doctors, nurses, patients, family members, and civilians. In and out of the workplace. On social media. In the news. As if caring for patients with Covid wasn’t trying enough. The bitterness of the world on the inside of healthcare and out has caused me anxiety, worry, and fear. Physical chest tightness and pain. So many patients I’ve cared for say they were afraid to get the vaccine. Reasons being because of how quickly it was developed, because it wasn’t FDA approved, because of the unknowns in years to come. A patient very close to me said, “K, I was just scared to get the vaccine. Now I know it could’ve saved me from all this. But now it’s too late”. Often words that reflect hardened hearts, judgment, and ugliness circulate an ICU that is often occupied with patients filled with regret. I find myself asking, “Why?” Why make someone feel worse about something they didn’t do when they’re already scared to death? When we know there’s a good chance they’re not going to make it. When we could be the last new faces they ever get to meet. Who have we become when we speak so poorly and so easily about our friends, family, or those who were willing to lay down their lives for us? I’ve seen this virus take incredibly good men and women. Men and women who have served this country. Men and women who fought for my freedom. Men and women who lived their lives for the Lord. They did not/do not deserve to die this way. No one does. Vaccinated or not.

I prayed for God to send me a sign on what He wanted me to do about getting the vaccine. I asked for Him to tell me in a dream or put the answer right in front of my face. Unfortunately, none of those things happened, but my mindset changed, and it changed quickly. Covid variants are spreading throughout the world claiming the lives of children, teenagers, young adults, young parents, and middle-aged grandparents with or without underlying conditions. A couple of months ago we admitted our youngest patient, just a few years older than me and my husband, with no underlying conditions. I stood inside the CT control room, watching him slowly transition to the table on a nonrebreather mask with the assistance of two other RNs and the CT tech, taking several breaks because he was so short of breath. The scan then revealed his lungs being taken over with the white webs of Covid. My heart raced at that moment and I thought to myself, “he’s not going to make it,” and I realized that could be my husband or myself. My husband almost lost his life in a severe snowboarding accident earlier this year. We were several states from home, and hospital visitation was restricted due to Covid. We were each alone, just as these veterans and their family members are, and I refuse to go through that again if I can help it. So maybe I didn’t get slapped in the face with the answer I prayed for, but at the moment I saw that patient’s CT scan, and all these thoughts raced through my mind and my heart pounded out of fear, I wanted to run to get my vaccine. And I wanted everyone I love who is eligible to get their vaccine.

The next working day, I had until 2 pm to get my vaccine. We were full and the entire unit was crazed. Finally, at 1:50, I had time and was able to get coverage to go get my vaccine. As I walked down the stairs, I asked Jesus to walk with me and give me comfort in knowing I’m doing what was best for me. I walked to the check-in station at the atrium, hoping I wouldn’t see someone I know in worry for their change in thoughts of me due to my delay in receipt of the vaccine. I answered the first woman quickly and directly and completed my paperwork. Thoughts swam around in my head about the vaccine, current events, what I needed to do when I got back upstairs. Then Bonnie Standley called me right over. She verified my identification and asked which vaccine I would like. I avoided eye contact at first and my short, direct answers continued even after talking about her son whom I knew and worked with. I thought to myself, “just grit your teeth and get this over with”. And when Bonnie asked me which arm I would like to have the vaccine in, I felt my voice crack in the delivery of my answer and my eyes began to fill with tears. Anticipating a judgmental staff member to give me my shot, Bonnie was the complete opposite. She put down her pen and got me some tissues and looked me in the eyes with kindness radiating from hers and asked me if I was upset about “this”, her hands motioning towards the vaccine paperwork. I nodded “yes”. Bonnie said, “There are two parts to my job, the first, is to answer any questions you may have and to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible. The second is to administer the vaccine. But the first is most important. Do you have any questions I can answer for you?” I replied, “no ma’am. I’ve read so much and followed the research for each vaccine, I don’t have any questions at all. I’m confident in my decision of getting this vaccine for myself.” My tears continued and I told Bonnie, “I just hate how this vaccine has caused everyone to treat one another. I just feel so defeated if this is how the world is now.” She spoke from her heart with understanding. She told me she was proud of me for doing my research and for making the decision for myself. I continued to cry and tell her about my experiences, and she, like I finally did, related Covid to me personally. She reminded me that I cannot be the best wife, daughter, or nurse that I can be if I were to be hospitalized. That even though my family can’t see what I see, they’ll still need me. And hopefully, I can be their example. I soon calmed down and began feeling better, and assured Bonnie I was ready. Done. She put a Band-Aid on my arm and offered me some water. And in the midst of a pandemic, Bonnie hugged me, an unvaccinated stranger, and said, “everything is going to be ok.” The rest of the day I cried my weight in tears. Tears of defeat, relief, hope, and praise. I thanked God for Bonnie’s presence. And the next morning, I felt peace.

I say all this to try to explain the impact that Bonnie’s kindness had on my day, on my month, on this year, and during this trying time of life. I thought our hearts would be softened toward one another during this pandemic. After being proved wrong countless times, Bonnie proved me right and softened her heart to me when I needed it the most. She gave me comfort and peace during moments when I felt discomfort and chaos. I believe Bonnie knew that the weight of the world came crashing in on me in those moments. I believe she could see my heart was hurting and had been hurting for some time. I can’t begin to thank Bonnie enough for her kindness, grace, and understanding when I was expecting someone to show me the opposite. I thank God for putting her in my path that day and I know she continues to be a blessing in each encounter with patients and staff. “Ah, kindness. What a simple way to tell another struggling soul that there is love to be found in the world.” - A.A. Malee