I couldn’t hug Madison Sunday. My beautiful, beloved granddaughter turned 12 that day. We’re very close; I’m both grandfather and father figure to her. She’s incredibly bright and wickedly funny. We celebrated together, six feet apart. She cried at the end, I turned away so she wouldn’t see my tears. I couldn’t hug Madison Sunday.

Kevin W. Ryan J.D., M.A., is the Associate Dean for Student and Alumni Affairs and an associate professor of Health Policy and Management in the Fay W. Boozman College of Public Health at UAMS.

Fever! In the days of this COVID-19  pandemic, fever meant quarantine—or fourteen days of being away from any patient, colleague, friend or even spouse and being away from the hospital.   The painful, lonely first few days gave way to walks, meditations, and detecting ducks, daffodils, daisies and dogwoods.  Life was different but also beautiful.

Paulette Mehta, M.D., is a professor in the Department of Internal Medicine in the College of Medicine at UAMS.

Ring. Ring. Video connects. 

“I see you! Can you hear me?!”

Mr. Smith just purchased his first smart phone last month. He has access to his grandkids, beekeeping Youtube channel, and now his doctor from the comfort of his front porch. 

“Incredible!”  He laughs, “I remember when doctors made a different kind of house call.” 

Victoria Flynn, M.D., is an assistant professor of Psychiatry at UAMS.

The patient has OCD, main obsession: contamination. 

Our appointment is now online, like all others. 

I worry about her obsessions getting out of hand, her meds already maximized. 

“How are you?”

“I’m alright. This is how I’ve been all my life. People are catching up to me.”

No medication adjustments today, just take as prescribed. 

Erick Messias, M.D., M.P.H., Ph.D., is a professor of psychiatry and the Associate Dean for Faculty Affairs in the College of Medicine at UAMS.

The pastor told our congregation we will try virtual Mass. He reassured us we’re in this together with the guidance of the Lord. He turned to the deacon, who was a physician, for further reassurance. 

My family obliged the next Sunday. Despite no physical communion, technology brought us to church. The virus cannot impede worship. 

Eric Moorehead is an Administrator with the Institutional Review Board at UAMS.

I. Two hands, extended upwards towards the heavens.

How could this be?

II. Two hands, palms up.

One judging the weight of reality. This is serious, and none of us is immune.

The other full of hope. We shall survive, as we are able.

III. Two hands, together.

Namaste. I honor you.

My patient. My friend.

My prayer.

Bill Ventres, M.D., M.A., is an assistant professor in the Department of Family and Preventive Medicine in the College of Medicine at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences.