¡Ánimo, Teresa! / Be Strong, Teresa!

Desde este humilde blog, queremos enviar nuestro apoyo a Teresa, la auxiliar de enfermería contagiada por el virus ébola, que permanece ingresada en el Hospital Carlos III, y a la que deseamos que salga adelante de este duro trance.

Hace unas horas hemos recibido por whatsapp una emotiva carta a Teresa, escrita por una médico intensivista de Madrid, que sinceramente nos ha emocionado, y que queremos compartir con vosotras, traduciéndola también al inglés.
Si queréis, podéis encontrar esta carta en el blog de la autora.

No podemos estar más de acuerdo con lo que se dice en ella.

Querida Teresa:

No sé si algún día leerás esta carta, en el mundo digital nunca se sabe. He decidido escribirte porque, entre todo lo que he leído sobre el Ébola, me falta algo. Sé muchas cosas sobre ti (que no se deberían haber publicado), tengo cierta idea de lo que pasó (hay tantas contradicciones…) pero aún no he encontrado a casi nadie que se preocupe de lo que verdaderamente importa: tú.

No he visto a nadie ponerse en tu lugar. Yo lo intento y me imagino tu miedo al ponerte el traje por primera vez, sin casi formación. Me imagino tu angustia cada vez que te ponías el termómetro. Tu indefensión cuando, desde salud laboral, quitaban importancia a tu malestar. Imagino tu intranquilidad pensando que has podido contagiar a otros. Tu angustia intentando revivir qué pudo salir mal. Tu enfado al ver como tu “quizá me rocé al quitarme el guante, porque es lo más crítico” se convierte en un “confiesa que se tocó la cara”. Como si hubieras estado jugando a la ruleta rusa en vez de atendiendo a un paciente de alto riesgo biológico.

Imagino tu soledad en esa habitación de aislamiento, la pena por tu perrillo que no has podido compartir con nadie. La rabia cuando veas cómo los de arriba te abandonan y te convierten en arma política, en ocasión de conservar o no su poder.

Me siento muy identificada contigo, porque a mí tampoco me ha enseñado nadie a ponerme el traje de seguridad. Es más, en mi hospital no hay monos, solo batas impermeables y mascarillas, que dejan muchas zonas expuestas. Y las respuestas de los responsables son deplorables. Me imagino tu indignación al pensar que tu desgraciado contagio ni siquiera va a servir para que se revisen los protocolos y se mejore la formación, para proteger a tus compañeros.

No salgo de mi asombro cuando oigo cómo los que te han puesto en riesgo por la improvisación, por los déficits en gestión, por un protocolo que reconocen erróneo, por no asegurar que alguien te supervisara y ayudara a quitar el traje, quieren ahora culpabilizarte y lavarse las manos. No sé cómo te contagiaste. No sé qué pasó en el centro de salud y en Urgencias, no sé si tardaste en avisar de tu contacto con el virus, pero nunca se me ocurrirá juzgarte. Tu nivel de angustia en ese momento podría haberte llevado a hacer cualquier cosa. Quizá tenías miedo de que te remitieran de nuevo al Carlos III, a ese servicio de salud laboral que no te hacía demasiado caso. No lo sé. Solo sé que te contagiaste haciendo tu trabajo, ese trabajo tan bonito que tiene un solo nombre: CUIDAR. Que quizá llevaste un poco de consuelo a los últimos momentos de los misioneros fallecidos. Que debes estar orgullosa de tu profesión, aunque te haya puesto en riesgo.

Cuídate, Teresa. No hagas caso a todas las tonterías que se han dicho y que se seguirán diciendo. Cuentas con el apoyo de tus compañeros. Con el de todos lo sanitarios, que admiramos tu valor al exponerte al contagio. Confía en los cuidados y la atención de los profesionales, que son lo mejor de este maltrecho sistema sanitario. Ojalá todo salga bien. Te esperamos en unos meses para celebrar tu curación, quizá en una nueva Marea Blanca. Ánimo, Teresa. No estás sola.

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Y para añadir, un par de reflexiones personales:

-Vergonzantes las declaraciones del Consejero de Sanidad de la Comunidad de Madrid. Vino a decir que la auxiliar de enfermería contagiada era idiota, que no fuera de víctima, etc. Le faltó decir que la culpa en una violación es de la víctima por la ropa que lleva o por llevar maquillaje. O que una mujer maltratada algo habrá hecho para merecerlo.
Entre sus perlas, ésta: "Si tengo que dimitir por el ébola, dimitiré; Tengo la vida resuelta".

- De mear y no echar gota que la "flamante" comisión creada en las últimas horas para gestionar la crisis del Ébola cuente entre sus miembros con los mismos inútiles que ni han sabido informar, ni gestionar, ni disculparse. Eso sí, sus señorías a llenar bien la buchaca cobrando dietas. 
Tiene cojones, con perdón, que para estar informada de cómo se contagia la enfermedad, de cómo se tiene que poner y quitar el traje haya que ver el programa de Ana Rosa Quintana.  

Con todo, también es justo decir que me parece una temeridad ir a la peluquería sospechando que puedes tener Ebola, horas antes de que te ingresen. 
Esa decisión incomprensible ha puesto en riesgo a otras dos personas.

From this humble space in the blogosphere, we'd like to send our support to Teresa, the nursing assistant diagnosed with Ebola and who's now a patient at the Carlos III state hospital in Madrid. We hope she can make a full recovery and leave this nightmare behind.

A few hours ago we got a Whatsapp message with a very touching letter written by an ICU doctor from Madrid. We were really touched by her words and would like to share it with you.
If you want, you can read the letter in her blog .

We cannot agree more with what she states below:

Dear Teresa,

I don't know if you'll ever read this letter, as it's hard to tell in this digital age. I've decided to write to you because despite all that's been written about Ebola, something's missing for me. I know many things about you -that should not have been made public-, I have some understanding of what could have happened -there are so many contradictions...- but I have hardly heard anyone worrying about what truly matters here: you.

I haven't seen people putting themselves in your shoes. I've been trying to and can imagine how scared you were the first time you put on the PPE, with almost no training. I can imagine your anxiety everytime you took your temperature. Your helplessness too, when you called the Occupational Health staff and they just played your symptoms down. I can feel your unease at the thought that other people around you might have contracted the virus. Your anguish playing what could have gone wrong in your mind over and over again. Your annoyance at the way your saying 'I might have grazed my face with the glove, because it's the most critical item' became 'she confessed touching her face'. As if you'd been playing Russian roulette rather than tending to a biological-hazard patient.

I can imagine how lonely you feel in that Isolation Ward, how heartbroken you are about your dog. You couldn't even share your pain with anyone. You will no wonder suffer when you see those on top deserting you and turning you into a political weapon instead. The lengths they'll go to if they can cling on to power.

I can totally relate with you because no one instructed me on how to put on the protective equipment either. What's more, there are no coveralls here. We only have waterproof lab coats and masks that leave too many parts exposed. The answers we get from those on top are just dismal. I can feel your outrage, as your being sick will not even make them revise the existing protocols or improve training to protect your colleagues.

I can't get over my surprise when I listen to those who put you at risk in the first place as a result of their improvisation, their management shortcomings, of a protocol they now recognize was wrong. They didn't make sure there was staff there to help you all when taking off the PPE and now want to put the blame on you and just wash their hands of this.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/ebola/11148196/Spain-Ebola-case-Screen-and-sticky-tape-to-protect-against-virus.html



I don't know how you got sick. I don't know what happened at your Healthcare Centre or at the ER. I don't know how much time had elapsed since you let them know you may have the virus but I will never ever judge you.
Your anguish by then could make you do anything. You were maybe afraid you'd be referred back to the Carlos III Hospital, to the same Occupational Hazard Unit who took little notice of you. I do not know. I just know you contracted the virus while on duty, when you were doing your job, a beautiful job that has one name: CARING. You maybe brought some comfort to those deceased missionaries in their last moments. You should be proud of your profession, even if it put you at risk.

Take care, Teresa. Pay no heed to all the nonsense that's been said and will continue to be said. You have your colleagues' support, everyone in the medical profession who admires your courage when you put yourself on the line. Have faith in your doctors and their care. They're the best in this now precarious healthcare system of ours. Hopefully everything will turn out fine. We hope we can see you again in a few months and celebrate your recovery. Perhaps in a new White Tide.
Be strong, Teresa. You're not alone.

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And finally, let me add a few personal comments:

-Outrageous comments those issued by the Health Counsellor for the local government in Madrid. In short, he called the assistant nurse stupid, as putting on the PPE was 'no big deal', he critisised her for playing the martyr, and so on. He probably wanted to add but didn't dare to that in a rape case it's the victim's fault for wearing such clothes or makeup; that domestic violence victims must have done something to deserve it.
Here's another pearl of wisdom he did drop: 'If I have to resign because of the Evola, I will. Anyway, I have a settled life'.

-I'm pissed beyond words: The newly created ministerial committee to reinforce the
handling of the outbreak consists of exactly the same useless folks who were unable to inform the population, manage anything or apologize. The only purpose the committee will serve is fattening their pockets so our honoured, ehem, authority officials have more money to burn.
One shouldn't have to turn to a primetime morning show to find out more about how Ebola is transmitted or about how the PPE should be put on and disposed of.

Caption: Nurse Debola - The doll all the girls want! Make her sick and blame her for everything.
Comes with all the accessories:
Inadequate suit, infected hands, the 'In' goggles, smartphone to find out she's tested positive, 45-minute course on the handling of Ebola patients. 

And now with Katana: The puppy the government will slaughter to try and trick people into thinking they know what they're doing, so they don't discover how INCOMPETENT they are.'

It is also fair to say that it's reckless going to the hairdresser's hours before being admitted to hospital, suspecting one has contracted the potentially deadly virus. The assistant nurse's impulse decision has risked the lives of another two individuals.