Can we have a standing ovation for our nurses, please?

Beena may not have a lamp in her hand, but every 10 minutes in the night, the lady quietly checks on Covid patients who have landed in her ICU ward.

Bed no. 7 is an easy patient; she has to check only his oxygen saturation levels; and generally keep an eye on him for sudden fluctuations. Young man, he will recover.

Oh, that way, bed no. 13 is also a young guy. But he has co-morbidities; diabetic for four years already, plus hypertension. His medicine list that Dr Asma gave her, Beena has to follow very carefully – what pill to give at what time and in what dosage. Where is the ward boy? Did he give this patient sponge bath?

Bed no. 2 worries her the most. When the lady came in, she looked like she would be sent home in four days. After her CT scan, she told Beena about her granddaughter. “My phone is not here, Sister, otherwise I would have shown you her birthday picture in that red frill frock,” she had said in Kannada. And Beena smiled, her eyes glowing from inside her masked face and full PPE suit, top to toe.

Then suddenly, the next morning when she came in on duty, she saw doctors trying frantically to revive the old lady’s heart function. Doctors who hadn’t even gone home for two days. Oh god, will she make it? That little girl, will she see grandma again?

There are 22 beds in the ward that was changed just this March into a Covid ward; otherwise, those beds in the cardiology department used to be vacant. Until February, Beena and her colleagues actually had free time sometimes; they could sit and laugh, eat a Mysur Pak someone had kept in the nursing station. And once or twice a week, they all could make a group video call to Suchi who used to work here. Oh, that lucky girl, Suchi! There was an opening last November in a Dubai hospital, she applied, she got, and she left in a chartered flight the government had announced. Now, you know how much her salary is? If you convert Dirhams to Indian Rupees, it is Rs 1.2 lakh per month. Can you imagine?

Riyadh, Rome -- everyday on the ‘Kochi Florence Nightingales’ WhatsApp group, someone or the other is posting about ‘Nurses Wanted’ ads. They said in America, the pay is $45 an hour. Is it really? But Beena sometimes doesn’t mind her Rs 19,000 per month salary. What she misses is the three days off that her foreign nurse friends got every week, that too after night duty. That, and respect. Patients there don’t expect the nurse to fold their bedsheets, feed them, wash their hair and even give them the bedpan. “Still, I am lucky I am in this big city, not a village. “Imagine no ventilator, no ICU, just me one nurse for 30 patients?” Beena shuddered.

You see, a nurse can’t get attached to the patient. She was shocked when she got a message from the HR department of her hospital that the psychologist would take some ‘sessions’ for them. Some games organised specially. “These new people in the corporate office, they don’t have work or what – we nurses will now sit and play or what?” Beena was irritated. But last week, Reji, who had joined two years ago, and Manjunath (about him, a patient had said, “Manju is so caring, like a lady”) were both called by the Head Nurse to be sent for counselling. Beena later learnt, after she took off the PPE suit, took a hot shower in the nurses’ bathroom and came out, that the two of them had broken down three days back, crying, “We did so much, looked after them, made them do proning, and still four more people died today.” Both are in their early 20s. Beena was also like that 10 years back, very sensitive.

Now, she has only her kids on her mind. Her husband is always supportive, but last week, he was worried. “You won’t get Corona yourself, no?” She had laughed, “No, you will have to cook for me for many more years.” She heard a beep on her phone. “Aye Beena, your patient no. 2, Sarasamma? She is good to go home, took your number. Said she will send you her little girl’s frill frock picture next week.”