"I could see the fear in his eyes." What Battling Coronavirus Looks Like | NYT Opinion

Stretchers, row after row, comatose patients in isolation rooms. All surfaces are dangerous and so is air, especially during intubation. “Every day you think: am I going to get really sick? Am I going to recover? Am I going to be one of those young people who, for

what

ever reason, dies from this?” The history of this pandemic will not be remembered for White House briefings. But for headaches in the hot zone. We journalists have not been able to cover the

coronavirus

as we normally cover wars from the front. "Good day." "Good day." But I was able to spend two days inside two hard-hit hospitals in the Bronx.

To witness the cost to frontline workers trying to keep Americans alive. “So we are entering a Covid zone. And that's why everyone who comes in wears these protective gowns. And this gentleman is helping me do it correctly.” Because I don't know

what

I'm doing. “I am the P.P.E. monitor." "They're bringing out another one." "Find that patient now." "We need the patient to come upstairs, please." Dr. Deborah White reminds me of a general commanding a battlefield. “I want "This is what we train for. This is the moment of our career because it is something that happens once in a lifetime." She is trying to save lives: "Yes, up, up and at the same time maintain." morale high.

Almost 800 New Yorkers died that day. “Many of the people here are clearly between 70 and 80 years old, but I am also surprised that there are many young and middle-aged adults here.” “Yes, absolutely.” up to 59." She constantly counts the beds and keeps track of each patient. "We're just hanging around and we want to know how you feel." “Sometimes, you know, human interaction helps them. So the bus is here? Oh , then let's get on quickly because the M.E.T.U. The bus is here. Let's walk quickly.” Dr. White has a problem. Too many patients, few beds. Unless they make room, more people will die. “This is a medevac bus to get people out of this hospital and make space here.

The bus is unlike any bus you have ever seen. It has oxygen. Has E.M.T. “There are people there to support patients as they make that journey.” But as this bus frantically overflows toward a nearby hospital, new patients continue to arrive. The red telephone rings constantly indicating the arrival of another critical patient. So many that there is a traffic jam of stretchers carrying a small army of doctors and nurses. They are about to attempt one last desperate step. An intubation. “I need a vent. “I need a vent.” "I need a fan." "So what we're going to do is intubate her right now to maintain her oxygen level so we can improve oxygen exchange." This procedure spews viruses into the air, leaving staff at enormous risk while trying to save the patient's life. “Take a few deep breaths.

You're fine." "She's attached to the vent." While intubated patients can't talk and what everyone knows is that they'll probably never talk again. Ventilators can save lives, but most patients still die. Death here has no dignity. Patients can't have visitors. They can't even see their nurse's

eyes

. I've reported on many deaths in my career. And this feels particularly brutal. You move on to the next patient. Someone codes, someone dies, you move on to the next patient. And you don't have time to process those emotions before you go home. I just cried at home thinking about all this. home, you finally take a break and that's when you let it all out.

Because here you don't have time to process those emotions.” These doctors and nurses are risking their lives and we are failing them. Some told me their deep frustration with the situation. government response. We have failed the tests catastrophically. The president hesitated. The Americans continued to party. The result, thousands of unnecessary deaths. “I was in the Intensive Care Unit, the second patient who came in tested positive, he was a 27-year-old young man. I'm 29 right now. I am as healthy as this patient. He often feels like a roll of the dice.” “I spent twelve hours at his bedside in all my PPE. in.

He held my hand and I kept telling him that everything was going to be okay, that we were doing the best we

could

, but I

could

see the

fear

in his

eyes

. It was heartbreaking. Because this is still so new to us that we're just doing what we can and we don't know what's going to happen." The way I see it, the triumph here lies in the courage and humanity of healthcare workers. This may not be enough to defeat the virus, but it is great to witness.