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Date
ICU. [pt.1]
Today, I spent the morning in ICU.
Intensive. Care. Unit.
I’m not sick, but rather sick of the deniers, ignoring the reality of this new world that we all find ourselves in. Let me share with you why.
It’s the first-time doctors are allowing cameras inside an ICU in Australia as they prepare for what they’re calling the COVID-19 peak. 3 hours into our shoot, in a single moment, the reality of how coronavirus has changed our lives forever hits me like a tsunami.
In my mind, I find myself drowning in the waves of worst-case scenarios the doctors, nurses and support staff so vividly describe.
Doctors like Katherine, a trainee GP I’m stealing time with. She never planned in her residency she’d be working in a pandemic. Telling me she’s already been in ICU for 10 weeks with no end in sight, I can see she’s somewhat anxious so I ask…
‘Do you feel like you have to put on a brave face?’
She explains that many critically ill coronavirus patients won’t be allowed visitors. Describing what sounds like a very lonely death, her fears start to ricochet off the sterile corridors we’re standing in. She spit fires descriptions of what the virus can do, the nightmare unfolding in Spain and Italy. In my mind, a series of numbers go off like cannons. 20,000 coronavirus patients now dead in Italy, 100 of those doctors. 15,000 Spanish medical workers now sick. And many of them have described the battle against this disease as war.
In my heart, I feel for Katherine and the rising number of her fellow medics here in Australia now self-isolating with symptoms many testing positive.
I can’t help but worry for these brave soldiers on our frontlines.
More tomorrow….
Today, I spent the morning in ICU.
Intensive. Care. Unit.
I’m not sick, but rather sick of the deniers, ignoring the reality of this new world that we all find ourselves in. Let me share with you why.
It’s the first-time doctors are allowing cameras inside an ICU in Australia as they prepare for what they’re calling the COVID-19 peak. 3 hours into our shoot, in a single moment, the reality of how coronavirus has changed our lives forever hits me like a tsunami.
In my mind, I find myself drowning in the waves of worst-case scenarios the doctors, nurses and support staff so vividly describe.
Doctors like Katherine, a trainee GP I’m stealing time with. She never planned in her residency she’d be working in a pandemic. Telling me she’s already been in ICU for 10 weeks with no end in sight, I can see she’s somewhat anxious so I ask…
‘Do you feel like you have to put on a brave face?’
She explains that many critically ill coronavirus patients won’t be allowed visitors. Describing what sounds like a very lonely death, her fears start to ricochet off the sterile corridors we’re standing in. She spit fires descriptions of what the virus can do, the nightmare unfolding in Spain and Italy. In my mind, a series of numbers go off like cannons. 20,000 coronavirus patients now dead in Italy, 100 of those doctors. 15,000 Spanish medical workers now sick. And many of them have described the battle against this disease as war.
In my heart, I feel for Katherine and the rising number of her fellow medics here in Australia now self-isolating with symptoms many testing positive.
I can’t help but worry for these brave soldiers on our frontlines.
More tomorrow….