Delfi’s photographer captures the work of doctors fighting coronavirus – minutes of rest are very rare here

But that mystical “opposite” was until very recently. And in the early days, doctors had to suddenly re-train, and the facilities had to change their purpose.

The old ward of the Children’s Hospital only remembers the drawings on the floor, which are constantly filled with isolated doctors wearing personal protective equipment. Now it is not only children who lie in these rooms. Everyone is lying here. Even those admitted to the hospital, as for an unrelated reason, such as a broken leg, necessarily spend a day or two in these wards until the test result is obtained. Only after a negative answer will you proceed to the next section.

The same procedure in resuscitation. Each patient brought here is placed in segregated quarantine and transferred to a “clean” resuscitation or severe coronavirus room only after receiving the results of a coronavirus test.

There were no patients during my visit. In a couple of months, there were four of these cases at the Panevėžys Republican Hospital. Mild coronavirus cases are treated at another infectious disease hospital on the bank of the Nevėžis River. There were only two potential patients in the dirty resuscitation that day. A coma was lying here the same day and awaiting results. The second: after a negative result is already transferred to the “clean” section.

When asked if they are not afraid to work during the increased risk, doctors modestly reply that they are used to it. On the other hand, there is no other way out. They just need to work. No choice. The fear has already subsided. It spread in the early days, when ignorance peaked. When it dispersed, all that was left was work.

Work that is not very comfortable. When one of the doctors sat down to breathe, I joked that the photo would fit the title “brief minute of respite.” It was fun for me alone. And the variant of the name turned out to be little credible. My heroine suggested much better. “I’m barely alive.”

After quarantine, I walked covered in the same way as the people who work there every day. All that was needed was photography and filming. I did not have to wash the floor or turn and move patients. I spent much less time in this outfit than a regular shift, only a few hours. However, even after them, I felt exhausted.

Perhaps even more emotionally than physically. I knew that the chances of at least one patient lying there infected with coronaviruses were low enough, but I still didn’t want to touch, sit, lean on anything. As if walking in a stopped reactor at the Ignalina nuclear power plant.

But people who work in a hospital can’t afford to be as tense as I am. They are in constant contact and never know if the person admitted to the hospital for vomiting did not bring them an unpleasant surprise.

That ignorance does not end with working hours. Even when you are at home sitting at the table with your family, you do not know if any patient has suffered what the world is sick.

The Panevėžys Republican Hospital is neither the epicenter of the world nor the country, there are not most of the patients here, most of the beds are empty, but these people work here to make it so. These photos will never go into history textbooks, these people will be nothing more than political heroes, no one will create buttons, hymns, or postage stamps on them. But they would be worth it. In a general fight against the enemy, each smallest step of each smallest is as important as the largest of the strongest. Because only together we are small, weak, simple we can win.