Sai-Kit Wong, DO ’03 
PCOM Heroes of the Front Line
April 28, 2020Anesthesiologist, New York, New York
                  
                  “When the pandemic hit, I was not on the front line. I never imagined that I would
                     be thrust into this position. In the 14 years I have been an anesthesiologist, I can
                     count on one hand how many deaths I have had on the operating table. I’ve never dealt
                     well with death. … Since March, all elective surgeries have been cancelled. I spend
                     fewer hours in the hospital during the week, but each hour is more intense. I have
                     taken on the ‘airway role.’ I respond to emergency intubations in the medical center.
                     Many of the COVID-19 patients I see are in their 30s, 40s and 50s with no comorbidities.
                     Some are elderly; fewer are children. When these patients require ICU-level care,
                     they often need extended respiratory support. They present with severe hypoxia or
                     acute respiratory distress; their oxygen saturation levels are in the 50s or 60s.
                     There is no time to waste delivering care. In my experience, 70 to 80 percent of those
                     placed on ventilators pass away. It is difficult to predict who will live and who
                     will die. … Here in New York, the unimaginable has become a ‘new normal.’ I recall
                     a night on call when I was so emotionally drained. After a case, I pulled my cell
                     phone out to call my pastor. As I moved toward a large window, I was paralyzed. Parked
                     on the street below were four refrigerator trucks. Mobile morgues. No one prepares
                     you for this. … One of the most anxiety-producing parts of my job has been the shortage
                     of PPE. For weeks my team and I were intubating COVID-19 positive patients with nothing
                     more than N95 masks, eye shields, gloves and gowns. Through a miracle, I was able
                     to—with my own funds—secure essential protective gear for myself and my department.
                     We are now better prepared for battle, at least physically. … It is so hard to be
                     isolated from my family. My four young children cannot comprehend why I cannot hug
                     or kiss them or why when I am home, I am in quarantine in our home office. If I do
                     have coronavirus, I don’t want to infect my family. There are people with mild symptoms
                     or who are in the asymptomatic phase. We have no idea what the transmission potential
                     of those asymptomatic patients is or how long that phase is. There is so much about
                     this virus that we do not know. … My oldest son just turned nine. His birthday brought
                     with it a frightening realization. I want to see my kids grow old, to spend time with
                     my wife. I want to hang out with my boys and do stupid manly things and I want to
                     see my girls on their wedding days. … I am far from a hero. I am a physician. I held
                     and still hold a moral commitment to provide care to those who need it, despite risk
                     to myself. That was the oath I took when I became a physician.”
                  
                  As told to Jennifer Schaffer Leone
April 2, 2020
                  
                   
                  
                  About Digest Magazine
                  
                  Digest, the magazine for alumni and friends of Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine,
                     is published by the Office of Marketing and Communications. The magazine reports on
                     osteopathic and other professional trends of interest to alumni of the College’s Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (DO) and graduate programs at PCOM, PCOM Georgia and PCOM South Georgia.