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“It is difficult to put into words the impressions after the volunteer shift in the red zone of the Vilnius City Clinical Hospital. But we need to know what kind of heroes it is who work twelve hour shifts here instead of four. What kind of heroes are those who dare to enter here every day to protect only the ‘space suit’, because I, who am already overwhelmed by the fighting and have internal protection from antibodies, did not need much courage “, says the politician .
We share the unpublished impressions of Mr. Saudargas, which he shared on his facebook account:
The “assistant to the helper” in this building feels no associations with Charon – the Stiks river ferry … Lifting some – to life, others – into the unknown, some simply floating, leaving others on the other shore. “My ‘record’ is ten a night …” says the former elevator operator, shaking her head. Ten who went to a hospital in one night … “Never before,” he adds. Showing the niceties of driving retro elevators, you hint at a desire to rest for at least an hour (hardly how long you work here alone without a break). Of course, I spend it making sure I will fix it. In my mind I try to remember all the instructions and chapter titles …
Calls: “From Nephrology to Radiography!” Here, it seems, the second floor, some building? .. I could not look for directions, I ask to ask at reception, show the direction of my finger, I go, we drive. We drive hard, the bed is big, heavy and uncomfortable, on the way I try to take out the chairs and the cabinets that they lift me up, I get stuck driving this “ferry”. “The rear wheels drive worse and you don’t drive with your feet forward …” – as if the nurse apologized. This “ferry” still has hope! We drive under the “X-ray”. The X-ray operator asks to lower the patient’s head and the raised head of the bed will not adjust without electricity. We go back to the rose window, we fix it.
“From neurology to resuscitation!”, Where these chapters have been annotated. We are driving. To the elevator, from the elevator, through the hall to the next building, back to the elevator. At the same time, nurses need to carry some kind of machine in the form of a coat rack with hoses on the chassis and it does not fit in the elevator next to the bed. I can think of a way out: turning the machine, I vary the legs one by one. Kylam. The patient has difficulty breathing and moans. “We will arrive soon, it will soon be easier,” assure the patient’s nurses. We rotate as soon as possible. A trip to the resuscitation room, it is already a serious bath in the river Stiks … As he passes to another bed, the patient stiffens, cannot stop, his coughing accompanies me back to the elevator.
There are still doctors, medicines and equipment, those who come here will be treated. New combat units are created every day, unloading new floors and buildings, but what will happen tomorrow? … Let’s talk to the woman who works at the front desk. “We do not have places, we do not have to move and install a polyclinic in another building?”, He declares questioningly looking at the screen. We can intuit the prospects for the provision of other medical services.
“Third floor, for endoscopy”. We bring Grandma on a giant bed. With the eyes of a nurse and a resident, we measure the closed doors of the exam room: will they fit, will they not fit? You still have to wait for the doctor to perform the endoscopy. We exchanged opinions with a resident about sweating under the “spacesuit.” I make several “blood” trips from the room to the lab. The “reception” asks you to take the package to the compartment; a ray of light from home is also in a hurry to be delivered. I carry it all the way to the living room, I come. There lie the two rocks. One called by last name responds, I make him happy with the bartender, and he shows me the neighbor and says something about the “lying hand” and that something is wrong. Neighbor in more difficult condition. I understand so much that the patient probably pulled the catheter out while being distracted. A guest nurse confirms my version and lets me handle it.
I looked around me, somewhere in the room, so much that I could hear him from the other end of the hall. Those on duty set off an alarm. “He’s calling the eleventh!” The nurses yell at each other. All busy with a job that does not wait. The alarm is silenced, then the light with the eleventh number sounds and turns on again. Something is wrong. Extra resuscitation is already there, it’s always bad. Sister rushes to the eleventh, I get to her elevator.
Agitation of the landing scar on endoscopy. The bed is still too wide. We took the old woman to a narrower bed and took her for the procedure. Together with the nurse, I help keep the patient on their side until the resident and the doctor do what I have the honor of seeing on the screen and neither patient wants to feel it. The tube penetrates the nasopharynx and trachea or something else that I can’t name without exaggeration.
The doctor continues to reassure the patient through the fog of a serious condition: “hold on to your grandmother, hold on” as quickly and accurately as possible by carrying out your intelligence operation through the internal corridors. “Everything is fine, there is no bleeding,” says the comforting doctor. I wonder if the grandmother listens and understands what the doctor says, and all the happiness. “Hold on your grandmother, hold on, maybe you’ll recover,” the doctors said, telling me more than lengthy descriptions of the diagnosis.
There is hope, but its quantity is limited. Subsequently, without stopping for a second, he tells the resident how the tube inserted through the nose should be attached to the face with a patch to prevent it from coming out during transport. I realize how much knowledge is not written in the textbooks in these hallways. It is the domain that saves lives and health.
Subsequently, we go upstairs and let in “x-rays” to various patients who are walking on wheels and even on their own. More hope here. “We photographed it successfully, now it will be fine, you will recover” – I encourage and try to brighten the mood.
Summoned to one of the departments, I was surprised when a woman and a man arrived, carrying bags, usually clothed, with simple masks, and Tom almost fainted. How is it here After all, everyone who walks happily through the red light district, from head to toe in white “spacesuits”, and here, as in the street. It turns out that, here those lucky ones, are discharged home, already fighting the virus inside. I took them by ferry to a safe shore. I don’t want you to come back here anymore.
Watch how your Covid-19 tests are done:
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