Emily mumbles incoherently as she gets up at 5:00am. She turns off her buzzing alarm and grabs the baby monitor under her pillow, slipping out of bed without waking her husband who is tired from being on call the night before. Once in the bathroom, she turns on the monitor volume. Baby still asleep. She looks exhausted. Her hair is a messy topknot. She is wearing PJs, but the tops and bottoms don’t match. She’ll deal with herself later. First she needs coffee.
With black coffee in a teacup she heads upstairs. She finds her laptop on the couch and starts looking in patient charts, clutching the cross around her neck. She has to precisely collect the data in regards to COVID results from the last 24 hours. She has to update the isolation list and spreadsheet so she can notify the health department. She finishes at 7:00am. 30 minutes left. She brushes her teeth, throws on some clothes, and slaps on some chapstick. Taking a beat, she looks in her beauty caddy and finds the “Healthcare Heroes” care package. She uses the calming mist.
In the kitchen, she starts packing sippy cups and sterilizing her son’s pacifier. She throws 3 granola bars and a banana in her lunch.
She goes to the nursery to wake the sleeping giant. Her son is not a happy camper in true teething toddler fashion, but she manages to change him and brush his teeth without him eating too much toothpaste. She grabs the present he made for her, handprints in primary colors on construction paper and puts it in the car. Everyone is packed and ready to go at 7:45, which is too late.
She drives to the daycare. Her son’s teacher takes his temperature, 99.3 cutting it close, but they still let him in. She gets to the hospital parking lot at 8:15. With no time to make it to the meeting room she calls into the conference line and reports her numbers. Then she puts on her surgical mask and is screened for fever at the front desk. Finally in her office, she is relieved that she was able to make it through her morning routine.