Cape Times

Student helps fight Covid-19

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A fourth-year Bachelor of Emergency Medical Care student at Cape Peninsula University of Technology (CPUT) heeded the call for help from health authoritie­s by manning ambulances and recently erected temporary hospitals. He tells his story in his own words

AS A health-care worker, full-time student, husband and father, it has been and still is a stressful time during this pandemic. What was previously normal, is no longer normal. It is an unknown time that all of us as a country, province, communitie­s and families have entered into. Because of the uncertaint­y, fear and change in our daily activities, these times are even more unbearable.

As a full-time student, my normal routine before the pandemic was that my daily activities would start by waking up at 5am and then travelling to Bellville to attend class from 9am until 4pm. I would then arrive at home every day at around 6pm and start preparing to perform my religious duties until 9pm. Now all crèches, schools and universiti­es are closed.

I now have to report as a full-time health-care worker, and this means dealing with the pandemic itself.

The pandemic alone is not as stressful as the baggage it brings with it. What was seen as normal, is no longer. A day is now from 7am until 7pm. Whereas I normally arrived at home at 6pm, I now arrive at 8.30pm, and this only occurs on a day where I don’t receive a late call.

When arriving at home during “normal times”, I would first greet my family and sit down and tell them how my day was and spend some time with my child. Now, I will go straight to shower before I even say hello to my family. It is so difficult to explain to a one-year-and11-month-old baby that whatever was normal before, is no longer normal. Like going to the park, taking her to ride on her tricycle or just going for ice cream is no longer normal.

Then there is the fact that I feel that there is no guarantee that I won’t get the virus. The worst thing that can happen is getting the virus and coming home not knowing that I have contracted the virus, although I have tried to be safe on duty and

off duty. The fact that I am dealing with these cases will make me believe that I have brought the virus home.

This idea alone is eating me up inside because there is an innocent family at home waiting for a father and husband to come home. These things psychologi­cally drain you.

When working with patients that are confirmed positive, you as a practition­er can feel, at times, that whatever you are doing is not right. When contacting the patient, where you used to perform assessment­s, now suddenly you have to have minimal contact with patients that are confirmed or under investigat­ion.

This is totally opposite to what was taught over the years, where we are clinically driven. Where there is even an instance where a patient will be screened as a possible case, we must leave the scene to fetch an ambulance that is designated for possible and confirmed cases. Normally, this would constitute patient abandonmen­t. At times, you as a practition­er feel inhumane because of policies and protocols that need to be followed.

Although service delivery is very important, working and studying full-time is affecting me as a student, husband, and father due to outcomes that I don’t meet or while I do meet these outcomes, it is not up to an acceptable standard. This is mainly due to limited time that is available and trying to play it safe in the sense of not allowing this whole situation to lead to burnout.

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