Sep 27, 2021 | Grace
My name is Michelle Gallagher. I’m a social worker at HDGH’s Regional Children’s Centre’s Intensive Treatment Services program. Our program was one of the many that were closed/adjusted during the first wave of the COVID-19 pandemic and many of our staff were redeployed throughout the hospital. Initially, management looked for volunteers. As an only child, with parents who fell into the “high risk” category I was hesitant and did not volunteer. Soon after the initial group were redeployed, my coworker and I were selected and informed we would be redeployed. I can remember being told on a Wednesday afternoon and asking where I would be going, what I would be doing, when the change would happen – each question answered with “I don’t know”. It’s hard to put into words how unsettling this was as a person who likes to be able to plan, to know what to expect. By Friday morning we were in a full-day training on lifts, feeding, and bathing, all the ways we might be called on to help nursing staff. Midway through the day, a handful of us were pulled out and informed that we would be part of the Family Support Team – what that meant exactly was unclear. By Monday, we were on our new units.My coworker and I were sent to Inpatient Rehab third floor (RH3) and given some information on what the patients and staff were going through. We did our best to stick together. We did our best to make sense of the new terms and rules, and world we were thrust into. To say it felt isolating and hard would be an understatement. Seeing what others were going through added guilt to my already full emotional plate. How could I complain when others have it worse? How could I admit to struggling when, at that time, the community was rallying behind us as “essential workers” and being so thankful for the work we were doing? All of these questions, and all of these feelings swirled around for me. I knew that at this point I lived alone, was distancing from all of my people, and now was pulled away from the work family I had. Looking back, I have so much empathy for spring 2020 me – but honestly, even more than that I have pride. Because somewhere along the way, I leaned in. I leaned in to the new people, new place, new role. I leaned in to smiling with my eyes so that staff and patients could see my smile even if I was in multiple layers of mask and shield and other PPE. I adjusted my focus to the staff, patients and families of RH3 and how I could support them. The job shifted and changed in the months I was in it: from securing the tangible things patients needed as outside belongings couldn’t be brought in, to communicating with families to make sure they knew how to contact their loved ones, and that there were people inside this hospital doing our best to lift spirits, take care of their people and show the compassion that HDGH is known for, to virtual iPad visits (few things will hit you in the heart like witnessing a grandparent get to see their grandchild after weeks apart), to eventual Courtyard Visits (and all the most beautiful reunions) and outdoor walks to let patients feel sunshine on their faces. I met and worked alongside some of the best people; people I never would have met if it weren’t for the pandemic and redeployment. There are a handful of patients who still hold places in my mind and heart. There were conversations and moments that I know I will carry with me for years to come. Mid-summer, I was informed that I would be gradually transitioning back to my home position – and the mix of emotions came flooding back. The transition was a whirlwind in my efforts to catch up at RCC and keep up on RH3 on the days I was still there. What felt like not long later, I watched the all staff e-mails come in that RH3 was in outbreak. It was like a punch to the gut. Immediately I reached out to the people who had become my extended work family during redeployment. There was nothing I could offer or do, except to let them know that I saw how strong they were. I experienced their resilience and determination first hand. And to let them know that others across the campus were cheering them on as they faced this battle.You see, that’s been the magic of this whole pandemic experience for me as an ‘essential worker’. There have been times when this has been scary. It has been messy and complicated. It’s been incredibly emotional – feeling lonely, isolated, tired, proud and strong (and roughly a million other things in between). But now, a year after my initial redeployment, I can tell you that I feel more connected to those who were redeployed with me, and more connected to the friendly faces I recognize when out and about on campus. The experience built and strengthened ties across professions and departments. I can see the ways this brought corners of our campus closer together. And, I can tell you, it has made me SO proud of my HDGH family.