By Sabitri Pandey
Ring, ring! A phone call woke me up from deep sleep. Someone said, “Please pick up Ryan from school. Ryan has a headache and is waiting to be picked up from school office.”
I was wide awake after hearing this. I was still in my PJs, sleeping after two busy ten-hour night shifts in a row. On both the night shifts, I had to care for seven patients; one of them was in isolation for COVID swab results pending. The other was with Under Water Seal Drainage, who needed to be checked every hour and ever earlier than that if any assistance was needed. Two of the others were immobile patients who needed to be turned and pad-checked and changed every two hours strictly. The other two were elderly with dementia and high falls risk. One out of them was patient with non-English speaking background. The only younger patient on 50s who could walk without aid, had a huge postural drop, history of anxiety and schizophrenia and needed frequent reassurance and supervision, whenever mobilizing. This kind of shift was actually not new; it was, in fact, a normal shift. Overall, it was one of my good shifts, as all of these patients’ observation was clinically stable. There was no Code Blues—a code which is used to call for emergency response team immediately. I was grateful as there was no falls and no Aggressive Response team.
I was happy about it. When I completed my handover and headed for home it was 07:45. My shift was for 07:30 hrs; I didn’t get paid or insured after that. However, as usual, we nurses often have to spontaneously volunteer extra few minutes and sometimes hours to complete the task and keep our patients safe. I walked to the car and reached home around 08:10hrs.
My three kids were awake; my husband was busy preparing breakfast and calling out for the middle child who was lying in bed, not wanting to go to school. My elder son was still figuring out which bay blade to take to school to play and was not in his school uniform until 08:20 hrs. The little girl, who didn’t go to school was ready for the day, energetic and following her dad, trying to reach the cooking stove and helping him prepare breakfast for the family. The kids’ school lunch was yet to be made. The kids needed to be fed and dressed and one big truth: the school bus would not wait after 08:30 hrs.
I rushed to the bathroom ignoring the calls from kids—no hugs, no kisses, no how are you kids? The maternal heart does not feel good, though. I felt as if I was one of the rudest mothers in the world, but I had to do it as time was flying and I was still in work clothes. My work clothes were ones that might have caught viruses, bacteria, or any dirt to transfer the infection.
While in the shower, I could hear the little one knocking the door several times. My heart was racing; I was planning the day ahead. The shower was five minutes long. I felt relieved that I was in clean clothes now, ready for the day.
I got out and entered the kitchen to give a hand to my husband, who was frustrated because the kids were ignoring his calls. Got the middle boy out of bed, promising to give him treats for school lunch and a lot of fun activities to do after school. Assisted him to wash and wear school uniform and escorted him into the kitchen with lots of promises. Normally the kids eat themselves but today I was happy to feed them to save time.
Rushed and gave lots of orders and promises, answering the older boys several questions about after-school soccer. I don’t even remember what the questions were and how I answered. I must have answered anything that came in my mind at that time without disrupting the flow.
Soon the kids were out of the house at the bus stop when the bus arrived. Thanks God, the school started! A long breath, relieved.
I rushed to the laundry to hang the wet clothes in the balcony. Then had a cup of tea and breakfast, while my husband was feeding the baby girl, having tea and talking with his sister overseas — all at the same time. I closed the bedroom door and jumped to bed, to get an hour of sleep before he went out to work, leaving the baby with me. I was aware when my husband handed the baby over to me. The little one was quite active. I tried to calm the baby and thanks, she went to sleep. I was in deep sleep when the phone rang.
I changed into day clothes, woke the baby up and rushed to the car. Soon was at his school. I rang the bell at the gate and Ryan came to me with a teacher. The teacher handed a sheet to me with some verbal instructions. I gathered that the school wanted my son to be tested for COVID. The information sheet handed to me by the school mentioned that headache was a sign of COVID , therefore the school wanted my son to be tested.
I headed to a COVID clinic in local public hospital, got the swab for my child and myself deposited, and came home. Our self-isolation at home started.
While I was driving, I started a conversation about headache. Ryan said he was washing hands after using toilet and one of the paper-towel cases fell and hit his head. His fried who was with him. They went to report it to the office, he crying silently. When his teacher attended and asked what had happened Ryan said he had a headache as the case had hit him. LOL! A headache to the son of a mum who works as a registered nurse in a local public hospital with recent COVID confirmed cases!
This must be a frightening answer to the school community. Therefore I was asked to attend the COVID swab for him. After 48 hours the results were out: of course, negative. Ryan and his brother and all of us stayed home next two days until the result was delivered. The kids actually enjoyed it. I am worried: the headache complaints may repeat.
[Sabitri Pandey is a registered nurse at Hornsby Kuringai Hospital NSW, Australia]