*A fictitious
account of a journey that over 400 patients have taken through the ETC
Two months ago I went to the funeral
of a man in our village who had died of Ebola. Back then there were more cases
of families hiding away their loved ones who were sick. They were scared that if
they admitted the illness they would be taken away, sometimes to an
unknown place, and that they would never be seen again. So people were dying
at home. In our culture we help cleanse the body at funerals and touch and share
tears with the bereaved to show sympathy and support. A week later I started to
develop aches and pains, and two days later, fever and diarrhoea. I called 117 and
an ambulance arrived and took me to the Save the Children Ebola Treatment
Centre (ETC), near to my home.
When I arrived at the ETC I had to
wait in the locked ambulance whilst the doctors and nurses dressed in their
Personal Protective Equipment (PPE). Then they took me into the Red Zone whilst
a team of hygienists decontaminated the ambulance inside and out with high
strength chorine. I was in a 10 bed ward and had a blood test for Ebola and a
cannula inserted. I was tired and very afraid - later I learnt I was then
at Stage 2 of the disease.
Other patients were coming to the ETC
on foot. At the gates, nurses were asking them questions to identify the chance
of Ebola. Some people were sent away again but if they had symptoms of the
disease they were admitted to the suspect ward where they would stay until they
were either tested as positive and moved to a confirmed ward or negative. From
that point there are only two ways out: through the 'happy shower' or through
the morgue. 35% of us made it through the happy shower.
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| One of the new Suspect wards |
There is no cure for Ebola. The
treatment is rehydration with intravenous fluids to replace all that we lose
through vomiting and diarrhoea. I was given antibiotics, pain-killers, vitamins
and medicines for nausea, agitation and reflux, all common symptoms of the
disease. All of us had liver and kidney damage caused by the virus. The boy in
the bed next to me started to bleed from his gums one night. They gave him special
injections but two days later he died. He was at Stage 3.
There were several children admitted
to the ward with me. Their mothers couldn't come with them so it was down to the
female patients to care for them, feed them, play with them and sleep with them.
The doctors and nurses came to the ward in teams every couple of hours
throughout the day and night to check on us, give fluids, medicines, take
blood, and help clean those of us who were too sick to do it ourselves. They
brought toys and balloons for the children but many were too sick or scared of
these people in strange uniforms and they often cried and hid away. We also saw
pharmacists, the Quality Assurance team and lots of WASH staff who cleaned and
chlorinated the wards and disposed of the waste and sharps bins to make it a
safer place. They also took away the bodies of those who died. We could only see the eyes of the people who came to look after us
and their names which were written on their heads but we started to get to know
them. My friend Haja even wanted to marry one of the doctors which was funny as she had no idea what he looked like under his uniform. There were lots of different nationalities -
some from the UK, some from Cuba, Sierra Leoneans and others from Canada, the
US and Australia.
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There was a lady on our ward who had
been there 25 days. She had been cured of Ebola but then she had a stroke. She
couldn't walk or take care of herself. The doctors and nurses did their best to
help her exercise and walk again but there are no medicines here for stroke and
no way to diagnose it for certain. Eventually she did go home after her family
had been taught how to help her move around safely and she was given a
wheelchair, commode, a new bed and mattress and driven the 200 miles back to
her village by a Save the Children ambulance.
The days are very long for us. There
is nowhere to go. Through the wire fence we can see the staff outside in the
green zone. Food is passed in to us through a hatch. It is very hot and there
is nothing to do except talk to the other patients if they are well enough. There
are buckets at the end of our beds for us to use if we can't make it to the
toilet in time. Once, my auntie came to visit me from the village. She was taken to the
other side of the fence and with a 2 metre gap between us we were allowed to
talk. She hadn't seen my family for a week as they were quarantined in their
locked house after I had been taken away.
My personal journey through the ETC
ended after 12 days. I received my second negative Ebola test 3 days after my
last symptoms and was prepared for discharge. My clothes and shoes were taken
away to be burnt and my phone, money and books were destroyed. Nothing taken into
the red zone can ever come out again. I went to the happy shower where I was scrubbed
head to toe with 0.05% chlorine and again with soap and fresh water. Walking
through the happy shower to the green zone on the other side, there were nurses
waiting there who gave me new clothes and shoes, bedding, towels, a new phone,
money, a supply of food and a survivor's certificate which I will show to the
people in my village so they aren't scared when I return home.
I am one of the lucky ones.
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| A Discharge Ceremony |
