Over the past few weeks, the Coronavirus pandemic has brought healthcare, financial and even social systems to their knees in several countries. Yet throughout the pain and tragedy experienced, not only are we learning how to contain the spread of the virus, but we are also re-emerging with perhaps a better sense of community. One obvious realization is that Coronavirus is not an old-world evil or an extraterrestrial malady. Our patients do not grow horns or ambulate like the “Walking Dead.” They are parents, sons, sisters and friends. They have heart failure, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, diabetes and hypertension. Some are well to do, while others are homeless. What they have is yet another condition that reminds us of our vulnerabilities as humans and, like other pandemics before, it is the weakest among us who pay the highest price – the elderly, the ill, the uninsured, the underrepresented, and the disenfranchised. It is a new virus indeed, but what it has unveiled is as old as humanity itself.
If anything history has taught us is that we will survive this virus just as we survived the plague, cholera, yellow fever and influenza, but at a very high cost. Each new disease presents a new challenge and creates a new tragedy, but it also provides an opportunity for change. Weeks from now, when we leave our homes to feel the sunlight on our faces, when we are allowed to embrace our mothers and fathers, and to enjoy a nice dinner surrounded by family and friends, we will undoubtedly take the time to digest exactly what happened here. Many academic lectures will be devoted to the Coronavirus pandemic. Epidemiologists will count what can be measured and biostatisticians will search for the proverbial P value when evaluating the effectiveness of interventions tested. We will collect, we will count, we will graph and we will analyze. We will write editorials, perspectives, case reports and research papers. We will listen to experts on television and we will read about the pandemic and its consequences on-line for years to come. I also hope that we take the time to listen to those who selflessly stood on the frontlines. To the nurses, therapists, and burned-out doctors who will not forget those faces. In addition, to the scientists who carefully studied whatever data became available to provide guidance. They have the stories, they have the facts and their actions remind us day-in and day-out of why we became physicians, scientists and academicians.
The impact of this pandemic on this generation and those to come cannot be completely quantified, and it is doubtful that the effects of this virus on the psyche of this nation, of this world, can be entirely predicted. Yet, we know that we must do something to prepare for the next one. However, will we? We have generated wonder drugs and surgical procedures that save lives, but the very fact that this pandemic was best treated through good old “social distancing” and not through the implementation of sophisticated new technical advances emphasizes the need to change our approach. We have created a healthcare system that is lean and efficient, but incapable of adequately adjusting to a disease surge. We have developed the most sophisticated tests, drugs and procedures, but cannot deliver them to all who need them. Worse, during illness, we demand it all, sometimes at the expense of others who also need what we seek and perhaps more.
Will we do something or will we settle on the fact that every generation a pandemic will eliminate the weak and those who are perhaps perceived as contributing less to our society? A sort of sacrificial “purge” that allows the rest of us to exist a little longer in better conditions. What a frightening thought. It is not walking in a hospital room with a coughing patient that frightens me, it is the thought that we might do nothing to improve outcomes during the next pandemic that is sure to come.