Over the past 12 months, in every part of the globe, millions of lives have been lost and personal worlds turned upside down. In the final part of our series, individuals tell more stories of gain, loss and adapting during lockdown
SIMONE HERRMANN
A&E is booming. Before we start our night shift, the doctors meet up with the consultant in charge to run through the new regulations before we disperse into the different areas of the department. Our consultant closes the meeting with the words: “Look after your patients and look after each other.”
A paramedic crew arrives with a frail, elderly woman who had suffered a cardiac arrest. She is intubated and her heart is beating again. Her husband is transferred into the cubicle opposite. Our tests confirm what we already suspected: both are infected with Covid-19. He is soon doing much better with some oxygen support. The rest of the team concentrates on the care of his wife: anaesthetics, emergency physicians and critical care, the best team the NHS can offer. But tests indicate that her brain is not working any more and there is no chance of recovery. Due to the infection risk, visitors are not permitted to enter the department. But we make an exception. Her husband is allowed into the cubicle, the oxygen cylinder next to his wheelchair. Then their children. Despite bleeping monitors and people rushing by, there is a profound silence. No words can express what we all feel.
