For My Sister, The Nurse Practioner

My sister is a nurse practitioner. But that is not her real job anymore. She is now a warrior, in the sense of what the word really means. She is fighting, for us. 

She lives alone and cannot see or be with anyone after work because she could be infected with Coronavirus at any moment. She cannot see me or our parents, she cannot see any of her friends. 

She goes to work where she said she literally walks by corpses in the hallway and then puts on a full-body suit to see patients who may die at any moment. She could catch what they have. She could die. 

Again she is doing this for us. 

It has never occurred to her to take some time off or just, I don’t know, quit her job right now. It hasn’t even crossed her mind, not even for a moment. This is her job in life, this is what she signed up for. Her only purpose right now is to save people’s lives. That is her mission. In fact that has always been her mission. 

I am crying right now. 

I am crying because even before this she is one of the most magnificent people that I know. I literally do not know a more generous, caring soul. She has been there for me in every way, emotionally and even financially. She was my biggest support when I got Bariatric surgery and when I had to get a biopsy to make sure I didn’t have breast cancer.  I am privileged and lucky to call her my sister. 

A lot of people who are in the healthcare profession are selfless in many ways. Their only job is to keep people alive, sometimes risking their own lives. 

I don’t want my sister to have to risk her life, but I can’t help but applaud her for doing it. 

And there are others. So many others. 

These angels do not bat an eye at the sacrifice they are making. They are doing god’s work. They are gods in fact, in the sense of what the word really means. 

Thank you. Thank you Jessica. Thank you, all of you. I cannot put into words our gratitude.

I cannot articulate our appreciation for the sacrifice you make every single moment of every single day. 

And you don’t even think it is a big deal, do you? You think you are just doing your job. 

Well, we think it is an enormous deal. It is the biggest deal there ever was. 

But are we as a society giving health care workers like my sister the proper protective gear? The equipment that they need? Why the hell would we not give them every little thing that they ask for? Everything. We need to give them everything. 

They are the ones that will save us. They in fact are the only ones. 

We sit in our living rooms fighting with our spouses and our kids and our parents, complaining about confinement, while health care workers risk their actual lives on a moment by moment basis. 

This is a war. And they are soldiers. They know what they need to win this battle. Give it to them. Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it, do it. 

I’m talking to the government and the president and any person who can help. I’m talking to you. 

What can you do, you say?

Stay at home. 

Every time we go out of the house when we don’t need to we are killing, actually murdering, health care workers. That blood will be on our hands. 

So don’t do it. 

And when this is over, the next time you see your doctor or your nurse, tell them how much you appreciate what they have done. Bow to them if you want to. Hug them. Give them flowers. 

They need to know that we know. We know what they are doing. 

We cannot comprehend what they are doing for us. 

We cannot ever thank them enough. 

My sister is my hero.

nina