My family has been involved in emergency medicine for the last 4 generations. Ordinarily, I’m proud to list off the roles my family members serve in hospital and in the field — paramedic, nurse, EMT. I am ordinarily proud to explain that I have followed in the footsteps of my mother, and grandmother, and great grandmother, as a volunteer EMT on the same ambulance squad they first founded.
But I am ashamed.
In this time of madness, when every available responder and professional is working around the clock, I am hidden in Hoboken. My parents, both paramedics with preexisting conditions that leave them vulnerable to complications should they contract COVID-19, have asked me not to serve on the squad during this time. They want me to stay healthy and far away from the front lines of the pandemic. Because this pandemic has put my family in a strange and uneasy situation. Every branch of my family now works every day risking their lives in an entirely new way.
My parents have now confirmed in legal documentation that should they both die I become the guardian of my two sisters.
They’ve asked me to stay far away from the front lines, to make sure my sisters always have me.
It’s been three weeks since I’ve had this conversation, over the phone, with both of my parents. I haven’t seen them in a month, and even then it was only for about 10 minutes. I worry every day that they’ll contract the virus and I won’t be allowed to see them, even if it turns fatal. I worry that I won’t get to say goodbye, that I won’t be a good guardian for my sisters, and that I will be resented for staying home when I could have served on my squad and helped. And I do all this while locked in my nice little apartment, far away from the danger.
From 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. I go to classes, work on projects, do chores, and complete assignments at the coffee table in the living room, with idle TV shows in the background for company. From 6 until 10 I try to relax, play video games, rest with my wonderful boyfriend, and thank my lucky stars to be here with him.
After that I just sit up and try to come to terms with my deep, deep guilt. I’m sometimes up until 2, 3, or even 4 a.m., depending on the night. However much of The Office or Parks and Rec it takes until I’m numb and tired enough to sleep.
I’ve seen the stories about what other students are going through, and I know that just feeling bad can’t begin to compare to an unstable home life, or housing situation, or becoming the sole provider for the family. But I can’t explain to my friends what this situation is doing to me, because even I don’t know the full extent. I helplessly pray that this is all it does.
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