Dominic McGlinchey: A Frontline Account of the Battle Against COVID-19
Galway republican and Éirígí activist, Dominic McGlinchey, has been volunteering in his local nursing home in Tuam, Co. Galway. Here Dominic gives an account of his experience helping in the battle against COVID-19.
“It is hard to know where to start with this piece: so much to put in and also so much that must be left out. I'll keep it as simple as I can. COVID-19 has changed the way we do things. It has also changed people’s lives forever.
Last Saturday evening, like any other Saturday, we gathered in front of the television with our four boys having just finished the Game of Life when my mobile started to go off. The name on it was the owner of the local nursing home, a member of our gym and an all-round good guy.
I knew instantly that the call was either for my wife, as she is a nurse, or for myself as I had offered to volunteer at the start of the pandemic. It turned out it was for both of us. As we say at home, the shit had hit the fan.
COVID-19 was running rampant in the greater Tuam area. As a mother and father to four boys we took a few hours to sort out how we could help and how much time we could offer, and it was decided that each of us would volunteer on the day that the other was not until staff levels got back to normal.
We got tested all clear - negative.
It seems with testing, and results coming back, that the managers can only plan on a day-by-day basis as positive tests coming back result in members of staff having to self-isolate. My first day was Monday. It will stay with me forever.
The reality that the country is at war, a very different war from which I have known but be rest assured it is a war that hit me. No boy soldiers, this front line is occupied by amazing nurses and doctors, care assistants, cleaners, cooks and so much more defending the most vulnerable in our society.
My shift was a short six hours, not like most of the staff ,who do 12 hours straight and often without breaks as the demand is so great. I was paired with a woman a year younger than myself: an incredible person, I would stick by her side for the shift.
Covid-19 has brought a wave of illness and death to nursing homes across the island of Ireland.
Three wonderful people had been lost the night before and that morning many more were very sick. The strain on the faces of the staff was plain to be seen but how they rallied amazed me. Every time they entered a room to treat someone, they did it with so much compassion and understanding it without doubt gave hope and comfort when needed most.
I am a people person and a talker which I tend to do with my hands and facial expressions. I get it from my father, or so I am told. Usually very comfortable in high pressure situations due to past experiences, I find my anxiety going through the roof: unable at the start to find my comfort zone due to the wearing of the PPE and the barrier it put in the way of communicating with the residents, who at this stage are all COVID-19 positive in the zone where I am working.
I find myself in a room with a wonderful little lady. She is frail and must be 80 if she is a day. But her eyes tell a different story – they dance like a teenager as if she has a thousand lifetimes to live. The anxiety is gone: this lady has settled me in a few seconds. Directed by the wonderful care assistant we set about our duties. The tasks are simple but take some time due to having to wear the PPE and also due to the different demands of each of the residents.
To maintain a person’s dignity is always to the forefront of my mind. I struggle with this as I go about my duties but am reassured I'm doing ok by the able care assistant. As the residents we are caring for are COVID-19-positive their temperatures can go really high, which can lead to intense sweating.
This leaves you needing to change the patient often in the bed. It is this task that leaves me floored. In so many ways I don’t know if I'm coming or going for a moment.
For a second I see fear, anxiety, hopelessness on the face of a human being 85 years older than my youngest boy. I embrace him, hold him, rub his arm and tell him he is safe and doing brilliant. He relaxes, embraces me back and strokes me. He has just given back so much more than he has received.
It seems as though someone has a speed button pressed on the clock as the hours feel as if they are flying by. Everyone is washed, has received their tea and are now in bed except for one gentleman who you find outside his room looking for some company.
He is a character and I would think he was some operator back in his day. I get him tea and a small biscuit, exchange a few words about the American president and he is off back into his room.
It is time to go home. A sense of relief in some ways and despair in others. The people who work here do this every day but have been fighting to keep this virus out since March of last year. I cannot imagine what it has been like for them over the past year.
When this is all over, they need medals – each and every one of them; a day set aside for them and all the victims of this virus.
I am home, stripped off at the door, sprayed down before getting into the house. Clothes into the washing machine, shoes in the shed. It’s Nicola’s turn tomorrow. I return the next day.
Two of the people I cared for have lost their lives.
The pandemic is not the great leveller. It takes our weak and our vulnerable. Do what you can, do your duty and listen to what the experts say.”
The account above was originally published on The Pensive Quill website.