A Brave Survivor Is a Healthcare Hero

By Jodi Nash

Lark Nash in her full personal protective gear.

Last year, my daughter Lark landed in the

hospital and was diagnosed with central nervous system (CNS) manifestations of her previously diagnosed lupus. And yet, it hasn’t stopped her from deciding to work during the current pandemic on the front lines with America’s heroic healthcare workers. How do I decipher that choice? I can’t. I’m terrified for her, but after lengthy consultation with her rheumatologist, she’s made her decision. Her lupus. Her life. Her decision. After her hospitalization, Lark, now 23, later found out “how lucky she was to be alive” in the words of her treatment team. She was diagnosed originally in 2014 with this insidious autoimmune disease that had attacked her organs. It resulted in significant lesions in her brain that impaired her vision, caused blood clots in her brain stem, a polycystic kidney, and pernicious anemia.

She can’t explain what it’s like to hear those “lucky” words, though she already knew her body was failing. She’s had ten surgical procedures, and will need a hip replacement before she’s 30. She receives vitamin infusions, and is on immunosuppressant therapy and numerous other meds to sustain her health.

Because of her own harrowing medical journey, she understands what current virus-afflicted patients are experiencing. And, as she listens to their stories, she feels accepted and understood as a patient herself.

“It becomes real, when you get treatment which saves your life, or gives you a better quality of life,” she said.

Lark could have furloughed until the pandemic ends, but never has her career choice, her lupus suffering, or her skill set been of such urgent importance.

“I’m not going to let lupus and COVID-19 stop me from doing what other healthcare workers have done for me,” she said. Basically, she’s been training for this viral warfare all her life.

So after donning her N95 mask, a surgical mask, a full face shield, a gown (over scrubs), booties, gloves, and scrub cap, Lark starts a 12-hour shift in the emergency room of a busy hospital far from her Warrenton home town.

Keeping a photo of her siblings in her pocket, she does whatever needs doing in this medical Ground Zero, from assisting with intubations, drawing blood, and performing CPR, to administering EKGs and providing bedside care. “It’s sad,” she said. “You think you’re prepared, but nobody really is.” It’s unfathomable, from the collapse and sudden death of a young adult her own age, to the exile of family members as their loved ones are admitted to a critical care unit.

Lark said she’s awed by her colleagues’ fearlessness as they triage in the manner required by this novel pathogen. It presents differently patient to patient, with some exhibiting cardiac or GI symptoms, while others develop neurological problems.

When her shift ends, Lark disrobes in a precise order, carefully, so as not to cross-contaminate. The gown, gloves and cap go into a bio-hazardous waste can. The face shield will be bleached. She’s exhausted, overheated from the shield and frenetic pace of the ER. She has vivid facial bruising from the masks. But she’s triumphant, this lupus warrior.

One day, police brought in a young psychiatric patient they intercepted in a suicide attempt. He was deeply distraught, so Lark made him a deal.

“I’ll run to the store on my break,” she told him, “and get your favorite snack and drink. It can be anything you want.”

When she returned with Mountain Dew and Sour Patch candies, he smiled, and asked her why she did this?

“I want you to let the dark times you’re experiencing make you a star,” she answered. “You’re brave and I’m glad you’re alive---thank you for accepting my help.”

Sometimes, Lark said, people just need an unexpected kindness. The next day I paid it forward, and picked up the Starbucks tab for the elderly couple behind me in the drive-through. Thank you, Lark, my beautiful child.