The last words I wrote in this journal were
printed in January 2020, after a family trip
to Disney World:
“I returned to work in this
New Year, in this new decade,
invigorated. My optimism stems
from the smiles of my baby girl
and her beautiful mother. It stems
from an understanding that our
imaginations power our spirit and
our spirit powers our hearts. This
year, 2020, will be an amazing
year for all of us because I will
will it to be so. The world is full of
magic. We are so blessed to be
physicians. I needed a particular
princess to remind me of this.
Search your feelings, you know
it to be true. I hope your year is
starting out as well as mine. I pray
that all of us can find perspective
and optimism somewhere in
this world, so that despite the
bureaucrats and the obstacles
and the hazards along our
journey, we can continue to serve
our patients in this, the highest of
all callings in the Galaxy.”
This was quite obviously written
before a viral pandemic spread across
the United States, infecting countless
numbers of our families, friends,
and loved ones, killing over 500,000
Americans. It was written before our
world changed forever.
Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Fatigued.
These are the emotions that have defined
our existence on the front lines of the
COVID-19 pandemic over the last year.
We have watched helplessly as many
of our patients and loved ones have
slipped away. We have held the hands
of patients who have passed away in
respiratory isolation, their closest loved
ones on phones and miles away, not
allowed into the hospital. But I have seen
Joy, when the infection overwhelms but
the body and spirit fight on, conquering
the virus and returning our patients to
health. We have seen families reunited
after long battles in the hospital ICU or at
home in quarantine. We have seen Hope.
We have known Love. I have seen the
fantastic power of the human spirit. I have
seen God’s love, and the power of prayer.
There were moments when I felt that I
could no longer fight for myself or anyone
else, when the exhaustion would creep
into my bones, and leave me battered,
bruised, and almost beaten. But we are
physicians. And we work with amazing,
powerful nurses, medical assistants,
medical techs, therapists, and hospital
administrators—a formidable health
care team. So I saw unexpected acts of
bravery, acts of selflessness, moments
that were etched into my soul forever.
I saw us fight an unknown adversary. I
have been privy to courage and honor,
as we wrapped our patients in an armor
of hope. I have seen hands that are raw
from washing and sanitizing and wringing
but showed no signs of relenting or
retreat or defeat.
And in early January of 2021, at
the hospital where I have seen and
experienced all of this, there was a
moment where my hope was recovered,
where I became recharged and ready
to step back onto the battleground. I
saw the proverbial light at the end of the
tunnel, the sun peeking over the horizon
at the end of a cold dark night. The
promise of a new day. The vaccine.
As I received that second dose, I
wondered how any of us survived this
year. I wept tears of joy, thinking that
I finally knew in that moment that we
(34) TARRANT COUNTY PHYSICIAN
March/April 2021
by Hujefa Vora, MD
TCMS Publications Committee
THE