my frontline

Presented at the June 2020 Greenwich Historical Society Story Barn event

Twenty-two years ago, I spent the summer in bed. That might sound like a huge exaggeration, embellished to make for a better story - it is not. It is actually a very long time to be on your back, although I have to admit that sometimes I wish I could reclaim just 24 hours of that prone position. What I learned from that summer? I learned that in times of need, a community comes together, and while we recognize our healthcare professionals today for their incredible work on the frontline, they have always been on my frontline.

I was twenty weeks pregnant with twins and went for a routine checkup. Weight, blood pressure, and warm goop on my belly - if you have been pregnant, this probably sounds familiar.

And then the technician paused.

“Let me just get the doctor.” Well, those are never words you want to hear, and before I understood what was happening, I was on my way to Greenwich Hospital ASAP, do not pass go, and to bed for the remainder of my pregnancy. And I did not know it at the time, but a community was about to rally around me and hold me upright for a long time, when I was unable to do so on my own.

Let me tell you about that community.

Rosa

Rosa washed my hair with a bucket and warm water, she moved me gingerly so she could change my sheets and prop my pillow. She spent her days making sure that I was comfortable given the circumstances. She had worked at Greenwich Hospital for a very long time as a nurse’s assistant and I liked to imagine the thousands of other patients that she had attended to and made comfortable over the years.

 Annie, Pam, and Priscilla

These are some of the nurses I got to know. I spent a lot of time with these amazing woman; night and day they took my vitals, but really, they did so much more. They told me stories. They encouraged. They made sure I ate my roughage. They fawned over my then one-year-old. They even helped me celebrate his first birthday, in my hospital room, with balloons and cake. They looked the other way when we broke minor hospital rules. We gossiped. They documented everything because they had to (it was part of their job description), like the time I slapped myself in the eye with a physical therapy band that had slipped off my toe and we laughed. And because it was in my permanent charts, everyone laughed.

And then when I was finally allowed to get up and walk to the bathroom after months in bed, and I was sure I could handle it on my own, I got this, they were there to catch me, when in fact I did not “got this”. I am not sure what exactly was in their job description, but I know they always went far above and beyond.

Oscar

Once a week he arrived with his crazy tie, portable ultrasound machine, and boom box, and together we checked on Baby A and Baby B. I looked forward to these appointments, the chance to see progress and listen to the stories that Oscar made up about our babies. We never wanted to know their sex, and not once did he slip. Oscar encouraged…always, and he poked fun…always.

“Baby B is active, what did you have for breakfast?” Or “Baby A is looking fat, and you, my dear, can kiss size 4 goodbye.”

 The OB’s

They were my QB’s.  They came in daily, sometimes for a quick visit in-between deliveries, and sometimes they would pull up a chair, comment on the needlepoint on my bedside table that was left untouched, tell me jokes. Anything really. We rarely talked about my health or that of the babies. They commented on time passed and time still to go. I always felt they were rooting as loud as we were for those unborn children.

Susie

A volunteer. Whenever she had a shift she sent up papers and magazines just because she heard there was a patient on the ninth floor who might need entertainment and stimulation. She was right, I did.

 Dr. Stylianos Theofanidis

Great name and the NICU doctor, who would parade in from time to time with preemies in hand. He let me know when I had passed the time when my babies, if born, would now be viable, and with every week, he let me know how much better their chances would be. His encouragement was loud and funny, not meant to be scary, but real.

And if I have to be honest, my community spanned beyond the doors of Greenwich Hospital.

My Husband 

He hates hospitals. I think they make him feel sick, but he fought those feelings almost every day and he picked up the slack with our son.  While I was learning about letting go, he was learning how to put on a diaper correctly and the fact that doing errands with a toddler always goes at a very slow pace.

Mary

I got a call from a stranger; she said she would like to come in and stretch me. Mary was a yoga instructor in town who had heard about my situation. After weeks on my back, a good stretch was absolutely heavenly.

 Sally

A real estate broker in town, again someone I didn’t really know, sent in small stuffed animals every week so that our son would have something to do when he came to visit.

 My Friends…My Dear, Dear Friends

A day didn’t go by that I did not get a visit from at least one friend. They came with food - Greenwich Hospital is amazing, at the time the food was not - a Starbucks decaf, a movie, hand cream, talks. They took my one-year-old son on playdates to the park, the pool, the zoo. They made an album of their adventures with him. They tried to keep me involved with the outside world, with my son, who I couldn’t even pick up, with a summer I was watching through a window.

 Tiger

My time on bed rest predated social media - thank god because I would have had some pretty bad selfies - but I had TV. It was the summer of Tiger, and although I had never watched golf before, I spent many hours by Tiger’s side, inspired and cheering for him as he ignited the world of professional golf.

My bed rest officially came to an end when Baby A and Baby B went from images on sonograms to my arms, delivered safely due largely to the amazing care I received from every single individual that had formed this community.

Today, Baby A and Baby B are 22, well over 6 feet, and one a recent college grad. We all made it. I don’t remember everything about my time in bed, and my months in Greenwich Hospital are blurred. But I very much remember how I felt. I remember a community that truly had my back. To say I am thankful is quite inadequate.

During the holidays, I bring food to Greenwich Hospital, to the NICU and labor and delivery, to the mother’s wellness area, to the ultrasound department. It’s a different hospital now and many in my little community have retired or moved on. But it feels right to share my story and my appreciation even with strangers who I know are caring for people just like me.

These past few months at home, when we have quarantined and spent time away from our normal lives, I am reminded of my summer also away from my normal life. There have been many who have kept us safe, encouraged us and who have come together to make sure we all make it. And if I learned one thing from my time in the hands of the workers on the frontline - we are in very good hands.