I spent part of yesterday reviewing my notes and culling out the patients that needed my care despite the risk of going out and about from those whose treatment plans could be safely put on hold for a couple of weeks. It’s a delicate balance, judging pain and its siblings – depression and addiction – versus risk, given all of the unknowables about this disease, but as always, it’s best to fall on the side of safety. There lies compassion.
I plan on doing some follow-ups by phone. Everyone who’s been a patient here knows that the chiropractic adjustment or the needles are only a part of my treatment. Education, training, coaching and engaging that deeper connection to help my patients pull out the best of themselves is really the bulk of what I do, perhaps the most important part. Even a video call is pretty watered down, but its better than nothing.
Last night, I put my office manager on notice that she would be working from home again, like she was during her leave in late 2019, but she insisted on coming in this morning. She had some stuff to pick up. And of course, with her usual efficiency, Giselle got my skewed schedule back on track, walked a few patients off the cliff, and hammered the financial end of things into hardened-steel shape.
Of course Giselle and I also had some good laughs as we always do, and then she left to get back to her younglings. I watched her go, briefly wondering when I would see her again, and then turned back to the tasks of the day with that too-familiar feeling of working without my right arm.
I’m seeing patients one at a time now, with plenty of spare to sanitize the treatment rooms between patients. The front door has a sign taped to it, instructing all my patients to stay outside and either knock or text me to let me know that they are there. Then I escort them directly back to their treatment room and get to work.
With Ripe Tomato Deli shut down, it was up to Ollie’s to fill the lunchtime bill, and I had the delivery guy drop it outside. I tipped him well because he, too, is putting it on the line.
It’s slow now, because this is how it has to be. This is how it should be. And maybe it should be closer to this when this crisis has blown itself out. There’s a lot to be said for contemplation and reflection, rather than having to work my magic on the fly all the time.
Perhaps it will be. When this is over, normal isn’t going to be the same normal that we’ve been used to. It will be something different, and nobody, absolutely nobody, knows what the new normal will look like. That’s one of the reasons that everybody is scared. Just one of many.
But fear is a topic for a different day. Today is a day of satisfaction, as I sailed through its waters without trepidation of the dark deep below, and allowed some of that sense of confidence to rub off onto the patients that needed it. I know this will all get worse before it gets better, but for today my family is safe and healthy and my patients are better off for having come to the clinic.
I’m going to call that a win.