Behind the fabric of the FFP2 masks that they were already used to wearing long before the epidemic, by professional obligation, we can imagine all the fatigue of a long year of virus, “There is an effect of weariness, we are in it permanently, permanently, permanently …”. Normally, Fanny is an operating theater nurse. “Then I found myself here in intensive care with a different and very specific organization”. We no longer see the emotion that can arise from his face. Only the eyes reddened by the lack of sleep testify to the rest. There is something in his gaze that sometimes says a lot. “Fear yes. I was afraid especially during the first wave when families were not even allowed to visit their dying relatives.”
A 70-year-old man is in an induced coma. Regularly a doctor, a nurse passes in his room. “In intensive care you need a nurse for every two patients”.
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© Yves Quéméner, France televisions
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On the second floor of the Louis Mathieu building of the Nancy CHRU, in the corridors of the intensive care unit, obviously summer is already very far away and it was not enough to recharge the batteries. But how did this fatigue become such a familiar companion? “Frankly I say to myself: will there be an end? Because in fact after the first wave we said to ourselves” we have to hold on and after that it will be fine “, then there was the second, and now the third. We have the impression that it is endless. We do not see the end “, this Fanny.
We want people to respect the instructions
For them, it is constantly necessary to manage the epidemic flow. But afterwards we will have to make up for the delay in taking charge of patients whose operations are unscheduled. “All the pathologies are erased for the Covid, and for the patients it is difficult with sometimes heavy consequences”, says Doctor Jean-Marc Lalot,
One endless day
Next to Laurent, a caregiver, they are three seated at the corner of a table at the end of the intensive care unit, in front of a large bay window. A view of the somewhat sad building of the children’s hospital. It dates from the 70s. The De Gaulle years. And then there is this incessant noise from the monitor. And also that of the telephone which rings often, “families are calling for news”. In the rooms the televisions are switched off. No BFM with the numbers of hospitalizations, which get carried away day after day, week after week. And the anxiety generated by this intense environment of permanent stress. Then everyone is talking pell-mell, at the same time:
– Tired of all these people who respect nothing, said a nurse.
– The lack of respect is heavy. Because you are here like an asshole and outside they respect nothing. Whereas here you see people dying, eh! It makes me angry, responds another.
– My husband, who is a surgeon, says that if this pandemic really affected children and your own children were at risk of having Covid and ended up in intensive care, well believe me that your friends would not invite them to your home again. And that they would be careful. But this affects the elderly, obese people, in short … tells a nurse from afar before leaving so dry. Sorry, I thought you were talking about care.
– And Fanny arrives: the other day they asked me: “It’s like in a movie. And they tell us.” It seems that there are people in intensive care. Is that true? “. So of course I said to them: according to you? But come see!
– People don’t believe what’s going on?
– Look, the other day my mechanic asked me: So how is it? So I tell him: not very well!
The great fatigue of caregivers in the face of the “virus that drives you crazy”.
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© Yves Quéméner, France televisions
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And that’s true. Here it is a world apart. Everyone is always and all the time on the move. To enter a room, the essential hydroalcoholic gel. To get out, again the hydroalcoholic gel. Over-equipped rooms that protect patients with weakened immune defenses from the deadly virus, and increasingly younger.
The appearance of variants
There are six or seven behind the cart and the computer. The interns, the nurses, the heads of clinics. It is time for visits. “We take stock, the blood pressure, the blood test …”. In the room a 56-year-old patient,“he seems out of the woods”. On the little shelf, bandages, compresses, the smell of disinfectant. A bustle that is tiring. “It’s our daily life. We have no choice”. It is no longer the physical fatigue which comes to jostle the mind, it is the psychic fatigue which comes to invade the body. “We must be on a 50/50”, said Laurent, the blue charlotte on his head.
An intern examines a positive patient for Covid-19. His heart shows signs of weakness and he is placed in intensive care.
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© Yves Quemener, France televisions
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At the heart of the Coronavirus units, the trauma experienced is only beginning to be expressed. With the English or Brazilian variants, they are faced with an uninterrupted flow of patients.“We have patients who are much more fragile, complicated to take care of who have a real loss of luck and who become intensive care patients with the appearance of variants”, says Pauline, intensive care nurse. “There isn’t a day when I don’t think about them, or I’m not afraid for them.” The will to return to battle on one side.
– Are you finally telling me I’m tired? But yes I am exhausted.
On the other, the discouragement of one’s own limits. “We never manage to disconnect. And sometimes I say to myself: ‘Who brought the hospital into our house, at home? We would like to return to our former profession “.
What strikes me the most is the resilience of the caregivers
Jean-Marc Lalot is a resuscitator. He divides his time between Nancy and Epinal. He arrived at 8:30 a.m. on Sunday. “I am on call for 24 hours, and even a little more”. It is noon. It’s Monday and it’s still here, “good this time I’m leaving and coming back tomorrow”.
Jean-Marc Lalot is a doctor specializing in anesthesia-resuscitation. “Too many operations have been deprogrammed to free up intensive care beds.”
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© Yves Quéméner, France televisions
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Stress, exhaustion, the caregivers hold on… but until when? Regularly the newspapers bring us back to the reality of the hospital. Numbers. “The lack of desire is not in our DNA, but we are tired of doing the same thing all the time, from Monday to Sunday. It’s always the same thing, scanner, intubation, blood test”, says Jean-Marc Lalot.
– You often repeat the same thing.
Then the exchange becomes silent.
– Yes I know and it’s annoying. We resuscitators are just needy. But that’s our job. Our DNA. Yet there is not only the Covid but even if we say tomorrow is over, we are not going to get out of it so easily, it will take time.
The voice a little tired, according to him with the third wave “weariness is gaining ground”.
– We’ve never had summers like we had last year. It is not finished. It’s still not over, frankly we count a lot on vaccination.
At the beginning it was surely the lack of preparation for this unknown disease that brought back the most panic. Now it is the endless daily life. “It’s always the same thing, we will hold on. We have no choice”. Jean-Marc Lalot is above all a doctor. “The patients are there, and we are there, it is our job, even if it would last five years, six years, ten years, we would be there”. Whatever it costs.
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