Lessons from the pandemic for a homebound physician
I am not one of the physicians who are on the front lines in the COVID-19 battle. It is with a sense of guilt and relief that I observe those who are.
I am mostly staying at home, but will be going into the hospital soon. Given the limited availability of testing, every health care worker is at a higher risk. One would not know if one of our clients may be contagious without declaring their illness. This is the result of the woefully poor response of the federal government to the epidemic. Illinois is doing a better job to meet the needs of testing. The N95 masks that are available still in short supply have to be sterilized and reused.
There are some unexpected benefits of staying home. I am doing tele-consults. This has been an unexpectedly pleasant experience. It is like the old fashioned home visits that were not uncommon a generation ago. I recall going with my father, a physician, on a few of these home visits. You were treated like a guest, and it established a level of rapport and trust that the sterile environment of a medical office could not.
I see children with lung and immune problems. During these tele-visits they are relaxed, sometimes surprised to see me on the screen, happy to show off their recent artwork or picture book. Tele-visits will continue to some degree, I am sure, even after the medical offices and hospitals open up.
The lockdown is happening in the month of Ramadan. The fast from dawn to sunset is approximately 15 hours long. Because I am at home, it is not as strenuous. One ritual of Ramadan is a long nightly prayer, Taraweeh, where one thirtieth of the Qur'an is recited. It is a communal and spiritual experience. This year it is replaced by praying in solitude at home that I am finding more deeply spiritual.
More time at home has allowed me to dive deeper into the meaning of the Qur'an, reflect, meditate and replenish my perpetually empty spiritual cup.
The manner in which the daylong fast is broken has also changed. Often it would be done with friends and family followed by multiple dinners. Thanks to Zoom, it is not lonely. The part of the family in the same time zone is able to break the fast watching each other. But staying at home and fasting is still stressful.
One additional stress comes from being part of a group that runs free medical and dental clinics in India. I have received urgent calls from the organizations that I partner with in India to send money for food and medications.
The coronavirus lockdown was ordered by India's prime minster, Narendra Modi, with a four-hour notice and no preparations to deal with the consequences. The very next day, millions of day laborers were walking on the roads for long journeys to their home villages, a migration of biblical proportions. Following increasing outrage, the government has finally arranged for 500 trains to take the migrant workers home, but with remarkable callousness, it initially asked these migrants to pay for the trip. They have no money for the fare. These folks are so poor that they do not eat if they do not work.
As the hospital dispensaries are shut down, patients with cancer and other chronic illnesses are without their meds.
As a Muslim of Indian origin, I empathize with Muslims in India who have the dual challenge of fighting both the coronavirus and the Islamophobia of the ruling party, the BJP.
Following the spread of the virus from an annual gathering of the Tablighi Jamat sect, Muslims were held solely responsible for the spread of the disease in India. Some hospitals separated Muslim patients from Hindu patients and Muslim women in labor were denied admission. Muslims are quarantined in much harsher conditions than others.
As the noted writer and activist, Arundhati Roy, has pointed out, India is showing all of the signs of being at the brink of committing ethnic cleansing against its Muslim population. A large group of British intellectuals have pointed out that a state-sponsored pogrom occurred in Delhi when U.S. President Donald Trump was finishing his trip there. Dissent is being suppressed with the use of a collection of draconian laws.
But Ramadan is all about gratitude and patience. I am grateful that my family and friends are safe. I am grateful that ordinary Americans have risen to the health challenge in a thoughtful and compassionate manner. I am grateful that in the U.S. there is no crass religious discrimination as in India. Above all, I am grateful for the work all the first responders, support staff and front line medical personnel are doing. With patience and fortitude we will defeat this tiny piece of RNA that is holding the world hostage.
• Javeed Akhter is a physician and freelance writer from Oak Brook.