My Wife Watched Me Deploy to Afghanistan, Now I Must See Her Off As She Battles the Coronavirus
I left the states for a combat tour of Afghanistan/Operation Enduring Freedom in 2013. My wife came all the way to Fort Drum from New York City, a six-hour drive, to see me off. I was part of an advanced party, so we had a small deployment ceremony at the headquarters building. The Commanding General was there in civilian clothes to shake our hands and bid us Godspeed. He was a highly intelligent and battle-hardened officer, but my wife remarked how in the moment he looked like a tall dashing Ralph Lauren model. We said our goodbyes, gave our final kisses, and I was off. As one of many support personnel, I was rarely in the line of fire or outside the wire. It was the same way for my two previous tours in Iraq. That said, the constant threat of indirect fire (rockets, mortars, improvised munitions etc.) in both locations had more than once rattled my nerves, my bones and my psyche. Ultimately, I came through my duty overseas unscathed. I left that life behind me four years ago, thinking I would find peace, but life as always gets in the way. Now, here I stand in the new epicenter of a deadly global pandemic, my life in more danger than it has ever been before. In an even crueler twist of fate, I must now see my wife of each day, a Nurse Practitioner who is now a combatant in the battle against the scourge of the COVID-19 Coronavirus.
My wife works at one of several hospitals in New York that specializes in orthopedic surgeries. She and her coworkers were not immediately concerned about Coronavirus infection since, as of March 15th, all elective surgeries had been put on hold in an official decree by Mayor Bill DeBlasio. Like millions of other New Yorkers, the staff at her hospital was faced with the more immediate prospect of furlough and/or a loss of income. However, at the behest of Governor Andrew Cuomo, her hospital and others like it would soon be “drafted” into service to assist other medical facilities throughout the city that were being overwhelmed with COVID-19 patients. This was part of a massive effort in which Governor Cuomo ordered that all New York hospitals increase capacity by 50% to address the alarming rate of Coronavirus infections.
Years ago, prior to my first deployment to Iraq with an aviation brigade, my unit received a comprehensive briefing from our chief of operations that explained in detail the mission and the obstacles we would face. In the past week, the staff at my wife’s hospital received periodic live stream presentations from Hospital board members and leadership. Though the guidance was thoroughly documented in emails and slide show presentations, the volatile nature of the Coronavirus meant that what scientists and virologists knew about the threat was changing rapidly day by day, with medical professionals scrambling to update their procedures.
Along with these formal meetings, the hospital staff members remained in close communication through various means, passing news about friends, family members, coworkers, and peers in other organizations who had been afflicted with the Coronavirus. They also shared and analyzed information and guidance coming from their hospital leadership about their inevitable call to action. To my eyes, the network resembled a combination of military pre-deployment preparations and the activities of military Family Readiness Groups (FRGs), organizations made up of family members and dependents built to support each other while service members are deployed. As my wife held an informal teleconference with her fellow orthopedic nurses who were preparing to treat COVID patients in various capacities, I sat beside in awe of this meeting that felt like a curious amalgam of a deadly serious pre-combat mission brief and an excited FRG meeting filled with equal amounts of juicy gossip and critical information about health and welfare. Complicated medical jargon flowed as loosely as the wine in glasses they toasted to each other over computer screens.
Everyone in this group was familiar with the strict procedures of a surgical operating room, where a sterile environment is essential. The new COVID procedures, however, were on an entirely new level of intensity and risk if not properly adhered to. One nurse made her frustrations about equipment effectiveness and ephemeral safety guidelines very clear. One key concern they all addressed was how the hospital’s team of anesthesiologists were able to procure high-end protective equipment, while most of the nursing staff had to deal with nominally effective items. My wife brought up the fact that the anesthesiology section was a separate corporately administered entity from the hospital, bringing to light a seldom considered factor in the medical supply chain issue. Moreover, anesthesiologists were directly involved in and responsible for intubations, the process of inserting a tube through the mouth and down into a patient’s airway so that they can be placed on a ventilator. The Coronavirus has primarily manifested as a lower respiratory illness that is transmitted through droplets in respiratory emissions. As such, the intubation is perhaps the most dangerous procedure of all in the hospital’s current mission.
Listening to this conversation, I flashed back to the many uniform and equipment revisions I went through in a decade at war. As a support unit, we were stuck with older rifles, outdated body armor, and standard issue tools that had seen many years of use. In contrast, more advanced front line units were equipped with top of the line weaponry and more versatile protective armor. Elsewhere, special forces and other covert units requisitioned cutting edge equipment from special government projects or directly off the civilian market, paid for out of pocket or through the many, many clandestine funding programs put in place during the Bush and Obama years of the Global War on Terror.
One of the nurses, who was relatively older than her peers, has a medical condition that counts her as one of the millions of immunocompromised people in America for whom Coronavirus infection would likely prove fatal. She made no qualms about refusing to work if she felt she wasn’t properly protected. Others felt similarly because they lived in close quarters with vulnerable family members such as infants and the elderly. The current crisis leaves the hospital with limited employment options, which in this case boiled down to either volunteering for cross training in COVID-19 patient care, or to use up vacation time and sick leave. Some nurses have already chosen to volunteer their time in various capacities. Others have chosen to use their hard-earned sick time to stay safe at home for as long as they are able, and they urgently advise others to do the same if at all possible.
I considered these words as I mulled over the parallels and differences between my time at war and the fight against this pandemic. I had always half-jokingly commented to my friends back in the civilian world that I was safer in Iraq or Afghanistan than I ever was at home in NYC. Statistically speaking, I’m more likely to killed by a criminal, a cop, or errant traffic than a terrorist or armed insurgent. I was a capable combatant back then, but now I am old, fragile and immunocompromised. A shadow of my former self. My wife is as healthy as ever and stronger in knowledge since she met me, and now her valiant efforts put as more at risk than anything I ever could have been a part of. I used to worry about my anger issues and unaddressed trauma creating a potentially dangerous domestic situation. Now, if she doesn’t properly decontaminate and sterilize herself just once, I am a dead, and very possibly so is she.
If the imminent threat to our own lives (and marriage) wasn’t enough, the past several weeks brought even more overwhelming stress with the news that both of our mothers had fallen ill. For my wife to care for patients at work while intensely monitoring her mother at home over the course of many days took an amount of courage and fortitude that I will never be able to achieve. Thankfully, her mother had recovered from her ailment after several frightening fever spells and was able to celebrate her 70th birthday this past weekend.
My own mother did not. She passed away on April 14th.
During my first deployment, can you believe that I didn’t even tell my mother I was in Iraq until about halfway through? What kind of child does that to their parent? “I didn’t want to worry her”, I thought. “I don’t want to jinx myself”, I reasoned. My wife and I hadn’t found about my mother’s condition until halfway through the course of her illness. I suppose she didn’t want to worry me. If I stop for even a moment to contemplate the ramifications and possibilities of karma or some sense of divine retribution, I will likely go mad with grief and guilt. Which, I can tell you assuredly, is already a lot like surviving war and enjoying the fruits of civilization when some of your friends have died. So, that’s what that feels like.
I had long lamented that I could never truly escape the specter of death, from my years surviving the rough neighborhoods of Queens to my time at war. And now, this dark cloud envelops the entire world and my little corner of it. There is light at the end of the tunnel, tangible hope that we will survive this, but the reality for now according to medical professionals is that this will get worse before it gets better. This nation may not ever be done with our so-called “forever wars” in the middle east and other regions around the globe, but we may yet soon enough be done with our battle against COVID-19, and it will be thanks to the brave men and women on the front lines who will save us. To all the first responders, medical professionals, and scientists working around the clock to impede this deadly pandemic, you are forever in my gratitude. Thank You for Your Service.
I Love You Wife. I Love You Mom.
