Sayed Tabatabai, MD

At COVID’s peak in San Antonio, when every ICU became a COVID unit, there was a blurring together of the days. A terrible numbness descended, pierced only by moments of grief, fear, and the occasional rare happiness. But my dreams were more vivid than ever:https://twitter.com/therealdoctort/status/1290329821088710657 …

As I’m tweeting these I know how privileged I am. I’m standing in an air-conditioned auditorium. I’ll be voting real soon. There are people standing in line for ten times longer than me, outdoors. It’s wrong, and it shouldn’t be that way. It has to change. 5/

Am I calling us “The Line”? Damn right I am. We are the Line. We are the Tsunami. We are Democracy in action and-OHMYGAWD someone has a Star Wars ringtone! Someone in this line has a Star Wars ringtone and I’m GOING to be their friend. It isn’t purple-haired guy. Hmm. 4/

Ok we got our first “Aw hell naw!” Someone walked in, saw the line, and said “Aw hell naw!” before turning around and walking away. Weirdly their shirt said “STAND AND FIGHT!” with a rifle and a US flag. Not sure what the significance is there. The Line chuckled. 3/

There’s an easy camaraderie. I think after all this isolation, it’s strangely reassuring to see so many people sharing a purpose (and wearing masks). I feel hopeful, genuinely. People keep filing in to join the line and I’m getting a kick out of the looks on their faces. 2/

In line to vote early in San Antonio. Have never seen it like this. Nobody’s quite sure where the line starts. Everyone says to get behind “the guy with the purple hair.” Fortunately he’s tall, and an easy landmark. He seems unaware that his hair color is so clutch.

“History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.” - Winston Churchill. The tweet below is powerful in its truth. I didn’t know, so I looked it up: the Payaya people were the indigenous people whose land encompassed present day San Antonio, Texas.https://twitter.com/myeshachou/status/1315715183352971264 …

That magical moment when cardiac output improves, boosting renal perfusion and urine output. Heart on the guitar, kidneys getting groovy.https://twitter.com/iddocadi/status/1315430367990554629 …

I look back from the door. You watch football, your hands clutching the TV remote like a lifeline, knuckles white. I hope the Cowboys win. Sunlight streams in through the windows. Motes of dust hang suspended in the air, sparkling like some ancient magic.

I finally speak up after a few more minutes. “This game is pretty much over, unfortunately.” You grin, “It was over long ago doc. I ‘preciate you spending the time.” “Thanks for the football talk.” I get up, and you say bye. “Catch ya later doc.” “I’ll be by tomorrow.” 6/

Eventually we fall silent, watching the football. Otherworldly athletes hurling themselves against each other attempting to dislodge an oblong ball. The sunlight is warm. “Doc?” “Yeah?” “Am I getting better?” “Yes.” “For real?” “Yessir.” You nod, and keep watching. 5/

“That’s a stupid play, doc. I don’t know why they keep running it.” “Me neither. Seems like the Cowboys ain’t in it to win it.” “When are they ever? Another mediocre season.” You start to tell me about the time you attended a game, memories of glory days. And we talk. 4/

My gaze follows yours. It’s a football game. Ah, Sunday. “Damn Cowboys. No defense.” I nod, “Mind if I join you for a bit?” “Go ahead doc. It’s gonna be bad for your mental health.” I laugh and sit down beside you. Together, we watch and criticize the coaches. 3/

We go through the rituals. We speak the words, and have the discussion. The updates, the options, the plans, the understanding. When it’s over, you fall silent, then curse. I think it’s at me, and flinch involuntarily. Then I realize. You’re looking at the TV. 2/

We begin our visit. In your hospital room, sunlight streams in through the windows. Motes of dust hang suspended in the air, sparkling like some ancient magic. You lie in your bed, propped up by thin pillows, on standard issue bedsheets. We assume our roles. 1/

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: “It might have been!” - John Greenleaf Whittierhttps://twitter.com/choo_ek/status/1315088489667387392 …

Hug someone I love, and feel grateful for this life I’ve had. (Also loudly exclaim “This is SO 2020” before being vaporized.) https://twitter.com/xBxnny/status/1313955093260185602 …

Hello love, my invincible friend. Hello love, the thistle and the burr. Hello love, for you I have so many words... - Ben Howard, “I Forget Where We Were.” #FridayThoughts #AGentleOptimism #HaveAGreatWeekend