SARNIA, Ont. — Behind the daily statistics of COVID-19 infections and hospitalizations are grieving families, exhausted nurses and frightened patients. Here’s a look at some of their stories.
SISTERS ON THE FOURTH FLOOR
After two doses of the COVID-19 vaccine, Janey Davidson never thought she'd find herself in hospital, labouring to breathe with oxygen tubes snaked down her nose.
And if her sister had gotten vaccinated, the 69-year-old retiree said it's possible neither of them would have landed on the fourth floor of Bluewater Health in Sarnia, Ont. — Davidson in the COVID-19 ward, and her sister in intensive care.
Davidson said she didn't know about her sister's vaccination status before the 63-year-old was sent to hospital in an ambulance with severe COVID-19 symptoms last month.
"She was against getting vaccinated. But you know, she should have," she said with a cough. "That was her choice, I guess."
Davidson said she didn't get to visit her youngest sibling in the ICU, and she doesn't know if she'll be able to see her "baby sister" again.
"They don't think she's gonna make it," Davidson said on Jan. 25.
Davidson said she stayed with her brother-in-law for a few days during her sister's health crisis, which is when she believes she caught the virus. Soon after, Davidson said she started to deteriorate and was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia.
Still, she has no regrets about trying to be there for her family.
"I'm the bigger sister. They rely on me," Davidson said. "I don't have an ill feelings towards them."
Davidson said the doctor told her prognosis looks promising, and she should be going home.
But as of last week, she was still struggling to walk without getting winded, and even talking too long could leave her gasping for air.
"I really tried to be cautious and everything, but I never thought I'd get sick," said Davidson. "It can happen to anybody."
BESIDE PATIENTS WITHOUT FAMILY, AT A DISTANCE FROM HER OWN
Davidson is among about 25 patients that personal support worker Nicole Corry is looking after in the COVID-19 ward.
Depending on the day, the morning, the hour, Corry said her duties may entail getting patients bathed, dressed, fed, and portering them to an appointment.
A PSW since age 18, Corry said COVID-19 restrictions on hospital visitors have added a new dimension to her job.
"When patients don't have their family, they rely on nurses and PSWs. And just people coming in there to see a face," said Corry. "We were their hands when they had nothing."
As she acts as a proxy for patients' relatives, Corry said she's had to hold her own family at a distance.
When Bluewater Health confirmed its first COVID-19 case, Corry said she was one of the workers in the room without protection.
"I remember, like it was yesterday, calling my husband and telling him I wasn't coming home. Being away for my daughter, who didn't understand," Corry said, breaking into tears. "I literally had to have my husband pack my bag, put it on the porch and just leave."
Even when she returned home, Corry said there was a period when she couldn't hug her family without putting them at risk. She couldn't kiss her daughter, now six years old, goodnight. She slept in a separate room from her partner.
She missed out on welcoming her nephew into the world, and saying goodbye to her grandmother in-person before she died in another unit of the same hospital.
It's a grief she shares with all the people she's helped see their loved one for the last time over a screen.
"We've cried so many tears over people we've taken care of, because we're their last person they see before they pass away," Corry said. "We've held people's hands and sat there with them till it's time for them to go."
There are times when it all gets to be too much, she said. "I just go into a room and cry. I really don't see an end in sight."
But then she pulls herself back together. Her patients need her to be strong, said Corry, so they can get stronger too.
"There's other times where we get to walk people out to their families who they haven't seen," she said. "In those moments, I love my job."
THE SICKEST OF THE SICKEST
After about 35 years at Bluewater Health, Deborah Matchett sees herself as something of a mother hen.
The manager of the intensive care unit and respiratory therapy said her team is charged with looking after the "sickest of the sickest," so she sees it as part of her job to make sure staff look after themselves.
"I want to focus on keeping my ICU team physically and emotionally healthy. That's number one for me," said Matchett. "I want to be able to connect with them and offer them the things that we have available."
Working in the ICU could be overwhelming before COVID-19 hit, when each nurse was assigned to tend to one or two patients. Now, the nurses take a "team" approach, with everyone pitching in where they can.
She pays special attention to the new hires, or the health workers who have been redeployed from other parts of the hospital.
"I want to make sure that they're not afraid and that we are supporting them," she said. "We can't do it without those people."
Part of patient care is maintaining their connections beyond the ICU's walls, said Matchett.
If a family member can't visit, she'll have them text pictures that staff turn into posters that adorn the patient's room, even if they aren't conscious to appreciate them, she said.
You also have to look out for patients' loved ones, Matchett said.
Recently, she said, the ICU team treated a mother with COVID-19 who was separated from her newborn in the neonatal unit on the floor below.
Staff sent pictures of the baby to the father and their three young children, who had also contracted the virus.
The mother was eventually reunited with her family, said Matchett. Sometimes, staff line the hallway to wish a patient well as they leave the hospital.
"To see them actually recover is what makes it all worthwhile."
But not every patient makes it, Matchett said. "There're some things you go home with that you can't shake off."
But Matchett said staff support one another, summoning the collective strength to carry on.
"Every night, I go home and say my prayers, and I'm thankful for the people that I work with every day," she said. "Because I sure couldn't do it without them."
— By Adina Bresge in Toronto
This report by The Canadian Press was first published Feb. 4, 2022.
The Canadian Press
