Diagnosis of Covid-19 patients and cancer: ICU doctor anxiety.

About four weeks ago, after having already postponed twice, I went to see a regular dentist. Examination of the tongue showed small white spots or “leukoplakia” on the sides of the tongue. I was told I needed to do a biopsy. A few days later, Coronavirus I had my dentist stop performing such a routine check.

Two weeks ago, an ear, nose, and throat colleague performed a biopsy and removed the white spots. The next day, he also stopped seeing outpatients. But my procedure was in time. Four days later, I got the result: squamous cell carcinoma in situ.

So the cancer part was bad. Cancer that begins in the head and neck does not respond well to radiation or chemotherapy and has a high recurrence rate. However, the site was good. This means that there is a problem with the operation of the cells, but all the cells appear to stay in place. Nine days later, he scheduled surgery to remove more tissue from the tongue, confirming that no cancer cells were visible on the rim under the microscope.

Two days later, I returned to the intensive care unit. That was a mistake.

Speaking was painful and almost impossible. Fatigue caused by rapid weight loss has always reminded me of my diagnosis and has made it more difficult to control my cancer concerns. I hospitalized six patients overnight during the shift. Three of them were potential covid-19 cases. There was no safe haven for my brain. I had to lie down several times to slow my breathing and control my heart rate. After just an overnight shift, I knew I was not ready to return.

My defeat was actually a blessing in disguise. Working at the ICU, she was unable to have surgery for cancer until she had no exposure to covid-19 for 14 days. This is to ensure that no one is infected during the procedure that requires anesthesia. Some hospitals in the Chicago area were starting to stop surgery. I did not want to be one of them.

So now I’m sitting at home and worried about something out of my control. Forced social distances at the same time reduce the spread of unprepared viral pathogens and quiet me the time to think. I feel a mix of fear, anger, and guilt.

Fear of one’s cell betrayed oneself. One or two may have already escaped and spread to other parts of my body. This can occur in squamous epithelial cells. Fear of my imminent surgery and pain. Frankly, the fear of returning to the hospital after recovery and of caring for covid-19 illness, as I have been called to do so. She fears leaving her family without her father and husband.

Anger over insufficient personal protective equipment and ventilation equipment that should already have been created and prepared for everyone who needs them. The anger that the people who would have taken care and prepared the country for this pandemic would drop things out of the cracks, and as a result make us all vulnerable.

Guilt that I needed help to cover my ICU shift. The guilt of getting a pass, from an increasing patient response and a decrease in the supply of PPE, and from the ICU where the covid-19 youkai penetrates everything. I can feel guilty of not being there and being relieved of not being there.

Like many people who have the time to think, I also feel a huge loss in suddenly changing lives and communities, when it happens, and the overwhelming medical system that I always assumed I think it is there. Return.

I know I’m lucky—I have surgery in hopes of curing a threatening illness. Forty-eight hours was the difference between having a dentist and otolaryngology available and waiting until social distance was reduced. Waiting several months for it to happen may be a very good difference between going from “in situ” to “invasive” on a biopsy.

However, I am working on the knowledge that during this outbreak there are so many people who have to manage much greater uncertainty in their own acute and chronic diagnoses.

Too many doctors have closed their offices. The emergency department is overwhelmed. Surgery and other important treatments are late. The hospital was not so scary for patients with family and friends alone. As a doctor, I have more insight and control over my path than others.

But this surgery is my first and it’s a reversal of role for me. I am anesthetized and on the other side of the respiratory tract, ventilator, and fancy laser scalpel, and cut off part of my tongue. Having an MD degree does not prevent you from being nervous and vulnerable. And hopefully everything will be fine.

The most important thing in this coronavirus era is being supported by multiple tribes, including family, friends, healthcare professionals, neighbors, and teammates. I have never felt these connections to be as important as now.

Wake up from surgery. Eventually, my tongue heals and my ability to talk and eat returns to normal. I hope my cancer is gone and won’t recur.

My world is still filled with uncertainty. Adjust the results so that they are displayed against a global pandemic. But I am ready to leave the bystanders and find a way to return to the normal state we all crave.