Each morning I am woken by the pit in my stomach
It intensifies until I get out of bed
I go through my routine, the pit is still there
Breakfast, coffee, vitamins
Shower, shave, dress
I leave the house for work, the pit sends a pang
A stop at the store is necessary this morning
Mask on face, I enter
Wipe the shopping cart
Quickly make my way through
Hit hands with some type of sanitizer
Get to work, wash hands, put on different mask
See patients, see staff, smile for the first time
We are in this together and all keep moving
Somedays the smile is genuine, other times it is another mask
Unless it touches my eyes, no one can see it
Humor and laughs are another veil
It is lunchtime, lock the doors, warm up a meal
Wash my hands for the 20th time
Eat alone, the pit is still there
Close my eyes for a little while
Get back a bit of sleep that eluded me the night before
Open for the afternoon, all the masks go back on
The routine is the same and it masks the pit
Wash hands that are dry and sore
Get home, wash hands again, and then a shower
I scrub and scrub and scrub
Eat dinner alone
Knowing I don't have to leave the house tomorrow
The pit is a bit decreased, but it is still there
Read, write, watch a bit of television
Pet my little dog, she knows I'm not the same
Her expressive face is a reflection of mine
To keep from tearing up, I need to look away
Coat my hands with Vaseline
Go to bed alone, the pit still there
Courage is not the absence of fear it is management of that fear
Right now, for just a moment, I wish for the absence