I remember one patient who passed away...it was a privilege to be able to sit with her

27 May 2020

A local councillor and former nurse who spent time on the front line caring for seriously ill patients stuck down by coronavirus, has recalled what it was like working in a particularly challenging hospital environment. In a special article for the Down Recorder Kathryn Owen recalls her experience of working 13-hour shifts at Craigavon Area Hospital

THERE are times in life when you watch something unfold in front of your eyes and wish that you could do something to help.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, that’s not always possible.

But as I watched nightly news bulletins relaying images of mass death from Italy, I knew that when coronavirus came to Northern Ireland that I could actually do something meaningful, I could help. And a few weeks later I found myself head to toe in personal protection equipment and heading to the so-called ‘red zone’ of Craigavon Hospital.

I had left nursing two and a half years previously to pursue a PhD in Cardiology, as well as embarking on a new journey as a DUP councillor for the Rowallane area.

I was enjoying the new challenges but as soon as the full scale of the virus became apparent, I knew instinctively that I needed to go back to nursing.

I re-registered around the time that the first pictures where starting to come out of Italy when everyone was beginning to sit up and realise what was coming down the tracks.

Having previously served as a medic in the military, working in a crisis and high pressured environment, I could only hope that my training would stand me in good stead.

While I was waiting for clearance, a friend who’s a senior doctor told me to isolate and I’ll never forget his words to me.

He said: “Kathryn, you’re going to get this. Accept it and isolate now. There’s no point getting sick before you start, otherwise you’ll be no use to us.”

Yes, he was that matter of fact, and he was right to be.

At home, my husband and I started to plan out living arrangements so he and the family could isolate from me. He had bronchial pneumonia as a child and we were of course worried about him contracting the virus.

Whilst I waited on my clearance, I was temporarily asked to work in the donning and doffing area of the hospital — the area where all hospital staff put on their PPE. Depending on your zone depends on what equipment you wear. There were three zones, green, amber and red with the latter being the most dangerous.

The day after I received full clearance, I was asked if I would mind being redeployed to a red zone due to overstaffing. My answer was “of course not”. This was it and I was off to one of the respiratory wards in the red zone. I went to get my PPE on, was checked and double-checked by the donning staff, ensuring that I was adequately protected.

I was informed that once I left the donning area, I wouldn’t be allowed to adjust my PPE in any way until I exited the doffing area.

If you get an itchy nose, you’ll just have to live with it, I was told. If you get thirsty or need the bathroom, you’ll have to wait until your break. I remember thinking that was three hours away.

As I walked to the lifts, the reality of what I’d accepted was starting to dawn on me.

Would I remember what to do as an auxiliary nurse, was it going to look like it did in Italy and why was I feeling so nervous?

Once I received my hand over, I was surprised by how it felt like business as usual; the role was exactly the same as before, except we were top to toe in the PPE.

I had no idea who I was working with because everyone had shields and masks covering their faces. All I could see were eyes and hear voices. How must the patients feel?

On lovely spring days, the heat in the ward was incredibly draining. It was difficult to breathe through the face mask and although there were fewer patients than usual, the work sapped your energy.

I remember how grateful the patients were and felt a sense of togetherness with the staff even though I didn’t know them very well. The usual banter existed, but that’s how we coped.

I remember one patient who passed away and it was hard.

During my first couple of shifts she was stable but then began to deteriorate. It was my job to sit with her while she passed. It was just so incredibly difficult but, equally, it was a privilege to be able to sit with her. This will always stay with me.

The woman’s family were understandably heartbroken. They couldn’t be with her during those last hours and were waiting by the phone. They also told us what messages to pass to her.

The staff on the ward were genuinely incredible. They do this so often, but I was out of practice. I hadn’t cared for someone’s end of life for years, so this was a big jump.

During my previous nursing years, I’d seen many people die, but this was different.

Typically, we do minimal nursing care in those last days and step back to let the family take over, but we now needed to be the patient’s family.

We had to step up and hold their hand, talk to them, stroking their faces and passing on messages from loved ones. I remember finishing the 13-hour shift and walking to the car, speaking to my husband on the phone.

He mistakenly asked me how my day was. Suddenly, my voice quivered and tears rolled down my face. The woman’s death had affected me more than I realised.

After weeks of helping out at Craigavon, my daughter started to display Covid symptoms so we were forced into isolation until she was tested and given the all-clear.

After those two weeks, the ward pressure had begun to ease and additional staff were no longer needed.

For now, I have resumed my PhD and councillor duties, helping my community as we slowly start to creep out of hibernation.

I will always be proud of the short time I was able to help during the Covid-19 crisis and standby ready to help again should I be required.

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