Had you told me, even a mere two weeks ago, that I would find myself filled with such emotion over alcohol…no, not ethanol, the lovely type we may imbibe at times in its various tasty forms…but isopropyl alcohol (of the “rubbing alcohol” fame), I would have deemed you crazy. And not the mildly-eccentric-but-still-lovable-and-fun type of crazy, but more on the bat-shit-crazy spectrum. I mean, seriously, who has such deep-seated, intense emotions about isopropyl alcohol?
Well, as I recently found myself trying to process the fact that someone drove to four different stores, close to midnight, during a viral pandemic, to find me rubbing alcohol at a random location 20 miles north of my home, I realized that I am emotional about alcohol.
Now before you dismiss me as the bat shit crazy one (which might be a fair assessment given the circumstances), let me give some context. I use alcohol pads to prep my son’s skin for his frequent device changes, as he wears two medical devices to manage his type 1 diabetes. My son wears an insulin pump in his leg, which is changed every other day, and a continuous glucose monitor in his arm, changed every ten days. These are literally his lifelines! As you likely ascertained from its clever name, the insulin pump delivers insulin, without which my son would not be alive. And his continuous glucose monitor alerts me when his blood sugar is dangerously high or low; this is even more important as my son is almost entirely unaware of changes in his blood sugar, which can lead to hospitalizations (or worse) if left unchecked. In addition, I also use alcohol to clean his fingers when I need to check his blood sugar, something I must do periodically to confirm that his glucose monitor is giving reasonably accurate readings. Typically it is fairly spot on. Other times, like last night, it was off by 110 points! While that is an unusual discrepancy, it can happen occasionally, hence the need to manually check a finger stick glucose periodically. Why not merely use soap and water you ask? Good question. Especially for device changes, which require that an adhesive backing secure his devices to the skin, it is important that his skin be as free of moisture and oil as possible, in order to ensure good adherence. In addition, the risk of a skin infection can be higher and more problematic in the setting of diabetes.
With our contextual science lesson safely behind us, we can get back to my emotional moment. For the last week or so, my usual stores and online sources continued to be out of alcohol pads. On Wednesday evening I had tried a few more stores and was poised to resort to the small supply I keep in our earthquake kit. That is when it hit me. The indiscriminate hoarding practices in the wake of COVID19 were about to affect our family and in a very real way. So it is perhaps not surprising that I felt almost overwhelmed when someone else risked being out in public to do something so selfless for not only me, but my son. Two days later a stranger, located nearly 3000 miles away, mailed me alcohol pads after reading my comment in an online physician group. About an hour later, my amazing cousin informed me that her friend, whom I have never even met, was driving a stash of alcohol pads across town to leave at my doorstep. Within the hour my cousin texted me to check outside my door, and by the time I closed my front door again, envelope of alcohol pads in hand, I had tears in my eyes.
My kids might have just chalked my emotional reaction to medical supplies as further evidence that COVID19 would be the thing that finally put me over the edge. However, for better or worse, my kids are pretty savvy regarding the implications of COVID19 for our community and my patients, as well as the ramifications of something known as “supply chain disruption.” As a pediatrician with a high number of medically complex patients, many of whom rely upon adequate medical equipment, medications, and supplies, the prospect of supply chain disruptions feels very scary. With the additional stressful reality of inadequate personal protective equipment (PPE), and the potential for insufficient numbers of ICU beds in the coming weeks, that fear is compounded ten-fold. The amount of time I have spent thinking about the logistics of this situation for my patients is tantamount to obsession. But I did not expect the hoarding aspect of this pandemic to hit so close to home this quickly!
Yet the truly amazing thing about life is that sometimes…even in the midst of what is ramping up to feel almost like a mass casualty situation…God, the universe, and three extraordinary, selfless people really can make a difference! Words are inadequate to express how blessed I am by their generous acts to keep my son safe (and me as sane as can be expected)! Hopefully some day, possibly months from now, we can raise a glass of the other type of alcohol together as a sign of my gratitude.
The Least Interesting Thing 