I've been toying with creating a blog for almost a year now, but now seems like a time to document things. Let's begin in Fall of 2019….

A couple months ago I did a StoryCorps interview on my professor. When my professor graduated with her degree, there was a shortage of OT jobs because of PPS – Prospective Payment System. This is when Medicare payments became a predetermined amount. As institutions processed this change in reimbursement, there were hiring freezes and layoffs.

Now let's flash forward to Fall of 2019.

PPS was normal to me and I finally got used to the system during my Level II fieldwork. Well jokes on me- Medicare changed things up again. And here arrived PDPM- Patient-Driven Payment Model. History repeated itself (deja vu, huh?) and I felt myself at a standstill.

Should I wait a bit until the institutions gathered their thoughts to make a game plan, or should I just keep applying and take the highest bidder? I chose the first one.

During this time I had some health issues and required a few surgical procedures. It seemed like the best time as the job market sucked, I could recover at my own pace without the impending doom of returning to work, and most importantly I could mooch off mom and dad while I was still young. So after weeks of laying in bed followed by rehabilitation, I felt ready to restart my career.

March 9th– this was the day my surgeon signed off on my medical clearance.

I. was. so. happy.

I could finally begin my career as an occupational therapist!

Well…. no actually. Something else happened.

a. freaking. pandemic.

Now first off, shouldn't this be in the history books instead of me documenting patient symptoms and vitals as they wheeze? Nope. We are living this historical event instead.

As a privileged, American citizen, I sat in a warm bed as I recovered and read articles on Facebook about China and Italy's experience with COVID-19. And for some reason, I did not think that could happen here- But it snuck right on a plane and landed in the US. The CDC numbers slowly crept upwards, a resident not wearing a mask in ShopRite was considered weird, neighbors crossed the road when someone else was also walking their dog, and (insanely enough) people began to wash their hands.

All of a sudden there were no napkins or toilet paper in the stores. Most of the frozen and non-veg foods were swiped clean off the shelves (except the expensive organic or vegan stuff). Events I looked forward to for months were cancelled. And now my cousin is told that hospitals will not allow any visitors (including her husband) into the hospital when she gives birth. (I did offer a home birth via YouTube guidance and a kiddie pool, but she complained her white carpets would get stained).

April 1, 2020 – I was waiting for the CDC to declare "April Fools!" but nothing popped up in the news today. Instead I saw my mother with a stack of death certificates she needs to mail, and tears in her eyes when she told a family that the remains will be cremated without them ever saying goodbye to their loved one's body. Instead I saw a nurse bawling in an elevator, wipe her tears, put on a mask, and restart her shift. Instead I saw one of my doctors stare at an empty wall with a look of too many deep emotions to even describe.

But I also did see signs of love- Signs posted around the hospital saying to remain positive, words of thanks written in chalk around the parking lot, people signing up to be a volunteer to disinfect areas or provide temperature checks, thousands of donated supplies with homemade masks, and community members buying groceries for those who are immuno-compromised.

As I sit here and write this post, I realize and acknowledge how privileged I am. I can afford to stock up on 4 weeks of food, I am healthy enough to continue doing my job, I am fortunate to have a family who can provide warm shelter, and I am blessed to be typing on this laptop.

Today I am writing about a historic event- an event without a defined end.

Now we wait.