“That’s what everybody is saying,” Josh said. “especially children. I guess there are lots of children who get this and don’t know. I read that it is also true of scores of other viruses kids pass around. Except nobody dies from those.”
“Every time I think I understand medicine it throws me an intellectual curve ball.”
“Which is why everybody is arguing about facts about this virus,” he said. “You can get it from surfaces, you can’t get it from surfaces. Sunlight kills it, sunlight doesn’t kill it. Masks work, masks don’t work. Hydroxychloroquine works, hydroxychloroquine doesn’t work. Remdesivir with be a game changer, remdesivir doesn’t work. I’ll bet the experts will be pontificating and changing their minds for a year. And who’s to say that the virus we have in New Mexico will behave the same way as the virus in Miami, Anchorage, or Los Angeles? Or Jakarta!”
“I have thought of that,” Faith said. “I wonder if we will look back on this and laugh at the way we muddled through it, the way Peggy talks about AIDS and hepatitis C.”
“I think we will. But in a decade, we will know so much about this that we will wonder why we couldn’t do a better job. It’s not that we don’t want to, we just don’t know what to do. What are we doing that will turn out to be a good thing? And what are we doing that we later learn harms the patients.”
“It’s scary.”
Josh took a deep breath. “There is something even scarier.”
Her eyes flashed open and snapped to his face, “What?”
“What if this is a biologic weapon? What if this is man-made? What if someone figured out how to hook a virulent coronavirus to some molecule that allows for fast human-to-human propagation? Or worse, figured out how to make an innocuous virus that transmits well into one that is virulent and lethal.”
“Jeez, Josh! Shut up! Don’t think about that and don’t say it.”
He tried to make her change-the-subject face. “What if Cori has red hair?”
“Wait, what? Did you just change the subject?”
“I’m emulating you.”
“I don’t do that.”
He laughed. “No. Not at all. Never. It’s like my brain trips over a curb every time you do it. Anyway, what if she has red hair?”
“Where would that have come from?”
“My sister, my mom when she was young, my uncle, Haley.” None of those were true.
“We’re not related to Haley.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You’re related to Ricky. Ricky doesn’t have red hair. I thought black hair was dominant.”
“It is supposed to be. But what if the baby isn’t yours.”
“The blond joke again?” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m assuming the baby is mine. I don’t know how it could be otherwise.”
“Time will tell. But I keep thinking about it. I saw a curly-headed girl with light blue eyes in an ad on TV and wondered if I was looking at Cori.”
Faith sneered. “You know what I look like, right? I doubt both the red hair and the blue eyes. Because of you, curly hair’s not impossible.”
“I hope she likes puzzles and board games.”
“You might want to find a class on how to dress Barbie and Ken.”
“You Tube.” Josh felt warm inside. “I don’t care what she likes. I will like it too.”
“Me too,” she muttered snuggling up to him. “I can’t wait until I can feel her move.”
“We need a crib.”
“Where is she going to sleep?”
Josh looked around as if he were home in the bedroom. “In our bedroom at first. Then later in the study. There’s room for the roll-top in the living room.”
“It would show off better there.”
Josh snickered. “Like we’ll be having guests. At the rate the virus is going, we might be stuck here for a long time.”
“I’m OK with that,” she said, giving him the melting look he loved. “Mostly it is how we are living now. Who has time for guests? And after Cori comes, we will be even more time-constrained.”
“I can’t wait.”
Chapter 32
Josh awoke, laying on his right side, feeling hot and sweaty. He felt Faith breathing fire on his shoulder, her burning hot body tightly spooning. Before he could turn to look at her, she shivered, and his gut wrenched.
“I’m freezing,” she whispered.
“You’re hot as fire!” he said. “Let me get you a couple Tylenol.”
He was back in a flash. She took the Tylenol, drank a little of the water, and he tucked her in with the comforter and the blanket from the bed folded in half.
He laid back down, hoping to get some sleep before a call day. In two hours, he awoke to her shivering again. Since he had only given her two regular strength Tylenol, he gave her two more.
“Thank you,” she whispered. He looked at her eyes, red and watery.
He settled back to bed only to awaken to her groaning. “I have to go to the bathroom, but I’m so stiff it hurts to move.”
He looked at the bedside clock. Five thirty. Almost time to get up. She came back from the bathroom, sweaty. “Good, maybe your fever has broken.” He gave her more Tylenol, offered her a dry nightgown, and tucked her in using towels.
Before he knew it, it was seven fifteen, when rounds should already have started. He had never been late before. The thought quickly vanished as she shivered and moaned.
He found Gatorade in the refrigerator but had to coax her to drink it.
“My arms and legs hurt so bad,” she said. “It’s almost painful to breathe.”
Compelled to reveal his fear, he muttered, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“COVID?” she answered.
He nodded. She didn’t protest. She didn’t feel as hot, so he left her under her piles of covers and took a shower.
Health officials were asking patients to call before coming to the emergency department, so Josh made the call. After numerous trips there to evaluate patients who might need obstetric or gynecologic admission, he had several numbers in his cell phone. He dialed the one to the charting station.
“Emergency Department, Ian.” Both Faith and Josh knew Ian well.
“Ian, Josh Menkowicz.”
“Josh, what’s up?”
“Faith is sick.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. She had chills early this morning, and now has muscle aches. I don’t have a thermometer, but she was burning hot after midnight. She got better with three doses of Tylenol, but now she says the muscle aches are severe. She has psoriatic arthritis on Humira. Do I need to bring her? Oh, and she’s sixteen weeks pregnant.”
“Would you guys admit her?” Ian asked.
“Only if she needs oxygen.”
“Yeah, bring her. Text me when you’re here.”
“Faith,” Josh whispered, touching her shoulder to arouse her. “I need to take you to the ED so we can test you for COVID and measure your pulse ox.”
She looked at him for a few seconds as if he had offered anchovy ice cream, then popped her head up to look at the clock. “Is it already after eight? I’m so sore.”
Josh found sweatpants, matching sweatshirt, bra, socks, and tennis shoes and helped her put them on. She struggled with each item, and he encouraged her to drink Gatorade in between garments.
“You like orange,” he encouraged, hoping she would drink more.
“I can’t tell what flavor it is.”
He helped her totter to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, while he combed her hair, and tied up a ponytail.
“Jeez, who is that?” she asked the mirror.
He offered more liquids, “I can’t do that stuff.” She stuck her tongue out.
Crouched over with her arms folded in front of her, he led her shivering to the front door. Even though it wasn’t cold outside, he grabbed a jacket and put it over her.