Every day, at around 8 p.m., I get a rush of both fear and assurance. My kitchen door opens, and I get to hear my dad saying, “Is anyone home?” like he always does at the same exact time. That’s matched with a wave of anxiety that the 50-year-old hospital doctor I’ve known as my dad has been exposed to COVID-19.
My life hasn’t felt as secure since his hospital diagnosed its first case of coronavirus. Once he’s home, he has to shower before he gets to pet my dog or hug my mom. I watch my friends post pictures of their families bonding during their quarantine, and it almost doesn’t feel fair that my dad has to be the one who’s more likely to get sick.
It took his hospital until early April—weeks after their first diagnosed case—to get universal protection gear for all of the emergency workers. My dad made sure to send our family many excited selfies with the caption, “I got fitted for my own respirator mask!” The masks are only good for a few weeks, and he only got it because he works in the OR enough for him to be at risk. The hospital has had to start delegating masks to certain doctors over others and using discretion on who needs the protection more. Needless to say, my family was ecstatic he even got a mask.
Lots of families have to deal with the same daily anxiety. Hoard buying has led plenty of essential workplaces—not just hospitals—to be unable to give employees the proper personal protective equipment, or PPE. In rural or less wealthy areas, especially, workers are facing an inability to get access to protective gear. Right now, according to the Department of Health and Human Services, the federal stockpile is only 12 million N95 masks and 30 million surgical masks but estimates that a year-long pandemic would need over 3.5 billion masks to be safe. The daily shortage because of insufficient access and stocks of masks means workers are being told to ration their PPE and are having to move to rudimentary DIY options. The lack of readiness to practice safety concerns everyone, but especially homes of essential workers.
The fear I feel every day is still there. I still get bursts of uncertainty when I see his car roll up my driveway—knowing that my father is put in the face of danger for work. The masks sometimes help reassure me, but the shrinking of supplies scare me when I think that there might not be enough for him to be safe doing his job.
Author Note: Since this article’s initial publication, the hospital Sophie’s father works at has improved PPE supply and requirements.
Photo courtesy of spurekar/Flickr
