Dorothy Duffy lives in Ireland. She lost her sister, Rose “Billy” Mitchell, when she died in a London nursing home after contracting COVID-19. She wrote this poem for everyone who lost someone to the pandemic.
My sister is not a statistic
Tomorrow, when the latest
Deathomoter of Covid is
announced in sonorous tones,
While all the bodies still mount
and curl towards the middle of
the curve
Heaped one atop and alongside
the other
My sister will be among those
numbers, among the throwaway
lines
Among the platitudes and
lowered eyes,
an older person with underlying
health conditions,
A pitiful way to lay rest the bare
bones of a life.
My sister is not a statistic
Her underlying conditions were
Love
Kindness
Belief in the essential goodness
of mankind
Uproarious laughter
Forgiveness
Compassion
A storyteller
A survivor
A comforter
A force of nature
And so much more
My sister is not a statistic
She died without the soft touch
of a loved one’s hand
Without the feathered kiss upon
her forehead
Without the muted murmur of
familiar family voices gathered
around her bed,
Without the gentle roar of
laughter that comes with
memories recalled
Evoked from a time that already
seems distant, when we were
connected by the simplicity of
touch, of voice, of presence.
My sister is not a statistic
She was a woman who spanned
the seven ages.
A mother
A grandmother
A great grandmother
A sister
A friend
An aunt
A carer
A giver
My sister is not a statistic
And so, she joins the mounting
thousands
They are not statistics on
the Deathometer of Covid
They are the wives, mothers,
children, fathers, sisters, brothers
The layers of all our loved ones
If she could, believe me when
I say, she would hold every last
one of your loved ones, croon
to and comfort them and say —
you were loved.
Whilst we who have been left
behind mourn deep, keening the
loss, the injustice, the rage.
One day we will smile and laugh
again, we will remember with joy
that, once, we shared a life, we
knew joy and survived sadness.
You are my sister … and
I love you.
— Dorothy Duffy, April 4, 2020
I was one of the first on the Monterey Peninsula to get really sick with
COVID-19, and it’s been quite a journey. I was admitted to CHOMP on
April 2, 2020, and was on the ventilator for the first 10 days. From the
moment I entered the hospital, I was greeted with the utmost care,
compassion, and dignity. Over my almost month-long stay, there were
100+ professionals that attended to me, which included everyone from
doctors, nurses, nurses’ aides, therapists, X-ray and lab technicians,
religious clergy, and all the people who sanitize the rooms, as well as
those who work behind the scenes that you never see. They don’t get
enough credit. I could not have made it without all of them, as well as my
cherished daughter, my family, and friends from all over the globe who
prayed and sent me well wishes. I left the hospital on April 28, 2020, and
have started to perform music again at the Inn at Spanish Bay in Pebble
Beach. My life has turned into one of gratefulness. I’ve learned how very
fragile life is and that I need to be thankful for every moment. Thank you,
CHOMP, for helping to give me a second chance.
— Andy Weis, Monterey jazz drummer, COVID-19 survivor
The care provided to our community by our staff during the pandemic
was, quite simply, heroic. Despite the absence of a vaccine to protect our
caregivers during the early months of the pandemic, our staff stepped
up and, at their own personal risk, did whatever needed to be done to
care for the hundreds and hundreds of COVID-19 patients who depended
on us for their care. I am grateful to work with such a dedicated,
professional, and caring staff.
— Steven Packer, MD, President/CEO, Montage Health