5:oo am: Wake up and shower; gotta be nice and clean to battle the new bugs infiltrating Hospital Woeisme.

5:30 am: Down my coffee and bagel while driving to work so I don’t have to eat my breakfast in the emergency department. My husband always complains that my car is a mess so at least now I have a valid excuse: Honey I have to eat in my car! It’s for my safety!

5:50 am: Douse myself in Purell and sanitize my computer before sitting down.

8:43 am: No potential COVID-19 patients yet, just the usual pre-C array of car accidents, strokes, heart attacks, and gunshot wounds.

9:10 am: A patient arrives with a fever and cough, along with some other concerning complaints – a potential COVID-19 patient.

9:13: Readying myself for battle involves donning a flimsy yellow gown, disposable gloves (which become permeable after 12 minutes of use*), and an N95 mask retrieved from a locked cabinet (of which we have almost run out, and I must use several times). Instead of the shared pair of clunky plastic goggles for eye protection, I sport my personal pair of pink-rimmed safety glasses, designed by the medicofashion company Chic Cheeks. Being in the midst of an apocalypse is no reason not to be fashionable!

9:28: My patient concerns me and I want to order the COVID-19 test. The test is password protected. I call infection control to get the password. I am denied testing by this non-physician because my patient has not traveled – but meets all other high-risk criteria. I tried to argue logic and common sense and was informed, “We’re operating under protocols, not common sense.” My head briefly explodes.

9:42 am: Infection control denied the testing my colleague requested as well.

10:51 am: My nails are getting chipped from the constant hand washing. I think about getting a manicure after my shift, but realize that I’m socially isolating, and my nail salon is probably closed anyway. Sigh. #COVIDworldproblems.

11:10 am: Every physician is being denied testing. My tech-savvy colleague figures out a backdoor way to order the illicit swab, subverting the requisite password. She shares her process around the ED and with all nearby hospitals, including our rival Our Lady of the Last Breathe, waging a war not only against the virus but against bureaucracy.

12:30: The ED is packed, more than usual for a weekday, jamming up our new entryway. I realize I haven’t gone to the bathroom all day. I thought about going few hours ago but got distracted.

12:33 am: Ahh, so much better.

12:48 am: A colleague lets slip a single cough. We all look at her as if she’s got the plague. Which she might. But this plague, you know, not the old plague.

1:43 pm: Find out we don’t have the swabs to obtain the sample for the illicit test. Seriously? How hard are they trying to make this?? How about using a Q-tip? I bet we could find some of those.

2:00 pm: My shift is over, in theory, but I don’t myself leaving for the foreseeable future.

3:48 pm: Finally finished charting and done for the day. I wear my mask until safely in the confines of my objective messy but (probably) disease-free car.

4:20 pm: Strip down on reaching my front door. The neighbors are politely trying not to look. I throw my scrubs into a biohazard bag and then the incinerator (aka my washing machine). I shower again in an attempt to rinse off any bugs that might have nabbed a ride home with me.

5:15 pm: Participate in #QuaranatiniHour with my friends and colleagues. We’re self-isolating so we send toasts and well wishes via text and Twitter. We commiserate about the barriers to testing and people refusing to #staythefuckhome.

7:12 pm: Hubby, who has been relegated to working from home by his company because of me, his super high-risk wife, preps dinner. Silver lining, no?

9:23 pm: I lay out clean scrubs before bed and prepare for another day on the front lines. Tomorrow I’m packing serious heat – I’m bringing a Super Soaker full of Purell and a ton of Q-tips. Watch out you little effing buggers, I’m coming for you.

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*Baker, Jason, and Matthew WagnerApr. “Nine Myths About Disposable Safety Gloves.” Occupational Health & Safety, 1 Apr. 2010. Retrieved March 15, 2020 from https://ohsonline.com/Articles/2010/04/01/Nine-Myths-About-Disposable-Safety-Gloves.aspx.