COVID Falling

"What's in that chicken soup of yours?" Stacy, a big-boned nurse in charge of the COVID wing, shook her head in disbelief. "All four of your patients took a turn for the better. They'll probably be able to leave soon."

Irene had just exited a patient's room who was fighting COVID-19. She blinked several times and adjusted her glasses. She never knew how to handle compliments but answered with a sweet old voice, "I get my chicken from Walmart."

"You're so funny. We all know the secret is you. You've been so helpful during this pandemic."

"I just talk and listen and make them feel seen. People always do better when they know someone sees them – when they know someone cares."

Stacy's smile turned to concern when she saw the gallon-sized zip-lock bag partially protruding from Irene's handbag. "I don't think you should let your patients use your spoon. Let them use plastic," she said.

"I have the patient place it in the bag and empty it in a sink full of dish soap and a little bleach. I'm careful."

Stacy shook her head, "Why a real spoon?"

Irene searched for a believable answer: "These people can't see their families or friends. Nurses care for them wearing plastic gloves, take their temperatures with plastic-protected thermometers, and serve their food on plastic plates. I want them to have at least one thing that doesn't remind them they are contaminated."

"You are an angel. I'll let you continue for now, but that might change."

Volunteer patient companions are essential workers; Irene has been one for over forty years. However, there has been talk that the hospital might suspend the program during the pandemic.

Irene went home and set her handbag down. She removed the spoon from the zip-lock bag, rinsed it with water, dried it, and placed it in a silver box cushioned and molded to fit the spoon perfectly.

"Are you home?" Jed asked.

"Jed? What's wrong?" She was alarmed. Forty-five years of marriage told her something was wrong.

"Oh, nothing really bad, just a small temperature."

She felt his forehead and pulled his blanket up higher. He shook uncontrollably. "How long have you had the chills?"

"A little after you left this morning."

"I'm calling the hospital. You need to be tested."

Thirty minutes later, an ambulance arrived, loaded Jed on a gurney, and sped back to the hospital with Irene riding along.

Irene sat patiently in the emergency waiting room, reading an old People Magazine, when Stacy walked in with a grim expression.

"Jed has COVID-19."

Irene's heart sank. Jed was seventy and took baby aspirin for his heart. Although it wasn't a serious heart condition, he was still considered high-risk.

"We need to test you as well," Stacy said.

"I'm fine. I have no symptoms."

"I understand, but you could be a carrier."

Irene tested positive. She was a carrier. The deadly virus covertly infected some people without making them sick to spread more effectively. Healthy people go to work, shop, and are around others.

"We can't allow you inside the hospital right now. I'm sure you understand," Stacy said.

Irene began to panic. She had just realized she could not use her spoon, and her eyes turned wild, like those of a trapped animal.

"It's going to be okay," Stacy said. "I put him in a ground room so you can see him through the window."

Irene calmed enough to respond, "That's sweet of you, dear. He's strong. He'll be fine." But Irene's look said otherwise.

The security guard drove her home. She needed to control her panic, so she began to cook. Cooking calmed her nerves. She made some soup and used her spoon from the silver box. She relaxed. Everything would be alright now.

The following day, she went to the hospital with her spoon and chicken soup. She stopped at Jed's window before going inside. She was shocked by what she saw. Several nurses frantically worked on Jed as he lay unconscious.

She knocked on the window; panic was about to overtake her. A nurse approached and signed for her to go to the front.

"What's wrong?" she shouted. The nurse shook her head, pointed to the front door, and closed the blinds.

Irene found Stacy, who told her Jed had taken a turn for the worse. They were doing their best, but it didn't look good.

"Let me go to him. I can help." Irene held up her handbag. "I've brought chicken soup. You know how powerful it is."

"The hospital just told us, no more volunteers." Stacy couldn't hold back a tear. "I'm so sorry, Irene."

Irene could no longer contain her panic. Jed needed the spoon. Everything would be alright if she could get him the spoon. 

"I have to see him. He needs me."

"It's out of my hands. You can stand outside his window."

Irene blinked her eyes multiple times, a habit she displayed when stressed. It usually calmed her, but unfortunately, the dam broke, and she began to cry uncontrollably. Stacy embraced her and joined in. What kind of world prohibits a wife from being with her dying husband? Wasn't it bad enough that the pandemic stole lives? Did it have to steal human decency as well? They cried until the tears dried up.

"I understand. You're just doing your job. But do me a favor. Please use this spoon to feed him. The spoon is the secret, not the soup. Just use the spoon, and he'll get better. Will you do it? Please, tell me you'll do it!"

Stacy said she would and took the spoon.

"God bless you. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. He'll be ready to go home by then." Irene left with a lighter heart. She knew the spoon would work. She never doubted it.

Stacy took the spoon and placed it in a biohazard bag. She had no intention of using it, as plastic was the safest for COVID-19 patients. She stored the spoon in an empty file drawer in her office.

An hour later, she checked on Jed. He looked worse. She'd seen this before. He'd probably die before morning. Her conscience pricked her about the spoon. It was a crazy request but a simple one. She woke Jed and asked if he was hungry.

"Irene told me before I got here to say yes, even though I don't feel like it."

Stacy got the spoon and some jello. He ate and then fell asleep.

Irene showed up the next day; Stacy immediately intercepted her with a half-crazed look.

"The spoon! I used it! He's getting dressed to leave right now! How? I don't understand!"

"Calm down, Honey, it's alright. Sometimes, it's best to accept without questions. If you want, I'll let you borrow it until I'm allowed back."

"The spoon? Is it safe? Does it always work?"

"I don't have all the answers. The spoon will do what it does. Now, if you'll excuse me, Dear, I want to take my husband home."