
I was placed as a physician associate student on the respiratory ward in the middle of March, when I had been on AMU we talked about the possibility of COVID and how it would effect the hospital. Thinking a bit like a rare flu and couple of cases here and there.
Nothing could have prepared us.
A few weeks later I was on the resp ward getting fitted for FFP3 masks and helping clear as many side rooms as safely as possible. Anyone who could go home was getting discharged ready for the incoming patients.
We got pulled from placement that night my course put on hold, I decided I couldn’t sit at home and do nothing when I could be of use. I got a job as a healthcare assistant at the same hospital I had been placed at – as a student I was fast tracked through and started work a couple of weeks later.
The change in the hospital was crazy and something I never could have imagined – half of some floors wards where closed as they where completely empty. The corridors and atrium was bare it was like out of a horror film.
My supervisory shift was on a ward that was meant to be neurology but since it being booked it was at least half full of COVID patients, we lost two that day with them expecting to loose a few more in the next 24hrs. I knew this was a battle like I hadn’t ever seen.
My third shift I accidentally booked onto the same resp ward I had been on a month ago not realising it was now the HDU ITU step down unit. It felt terrifying having someone dress you in full PPE like you where going into battle unaware of what was beyond the green barriers. It is something I will never forget, hearing how sick the patients are on handover is one thing but seeing them with tracheostomy’s struggling for each breath, on a continuous monitor with sats I would usually start to panic over but everyone is calm. The usually oxygen target has been dropped to spare the hospitals oxygen supply, but everyone on this ward has just been through a battle looking exhausted and hagged.
2 hours that’s all we could stay in the PPE for, you forgot your in it when you are doing jobs. When you are so busy suctioning patients thick secretions enough to make them feel like that can catch a breath before having to suction it again.
We also help them washing and change into clean clothes, but it takes so much more energy and effort in full protective gear. You can feel the sweat dripping down your back whilst you try and do simple tasks.
Helping those who can eat for the first time in weeks have the first sip of tea without an NG tube. Being able to talk properly to their family over the tablet we have. Some choose video call some choose voice only not wanting to see there loved ones like this.
There needs to be continue care so we have to leave a written sheet for the hand over of the section unable to give them a verbal handover. We won’t see their faces again for the rest of the day.
There are only a couple of computers inside the hot zone, so we have to remember some of the details to document and to be sure email it over to ourselves to document when we are outside.
We have some people in PPE on the other side to help us undress from the respiratory hoods or full PPE and wipe it down to be cleaned later but enough to be removed. Then we wash our hands it feels strange to be out of PPE you forget when you are in it. But it feels equally good to wash my face and moisturise in my down time.
We work in waves, 2hr in and 2hr off – the off hours are documenting, peeing, drinking water and eating. We still work within this time such as updating the handover sheet for the night staff.
The clock clicks closer to the 2hr mark and you go around the one way system, mentally preparing myself for going back in.
It’s mentally draining and difficult but it’s the new normal. These are the lucky ones who are off the ventilator, still able to fight for there lives – they aren’t out of the woods as they still have trachys in which means they are in a worse state than those’s without.
But they are no longer on ITU. There are stories I could tell of FaceTiming family members so they could communicate with them and see there faces. That’s one of the most difficult things patients unable to see a reassuring smile. Unable to hear our comforting words properly through the masks.
The emotional toll is more that I thought it would be.
It still isn’t over.









