I work in an intensive care unit. I love my job, that’s what I like to do and I’d rather never change it again. Well, it just so happened that COVID has come. And now it’s hard.
Applause on Thursdays? Nice. Ordinary people appreciating what we do more than the state. I’m not saying that we’re paid more all the time, but a nice bonus for Christmas or something would come in handy.
There is more pressure for the same pay. Usually such responsibilities would come in positions paid at a higher grade. All those changes, the fact we’re working from home – there’s more responsibility and the nature of the job has changed. And this is not something that’s reflected in my contract.
Distancing, washing your hands at every point, even in the corridors which you only pass. At the entrance, at the changing room – you have to wash your hands several times.
I wouldn’t say I was depressed but I did feel like a black hole was sucking me in.
I’d rather someone took care of me.
The mental stress comes from speaking to the family and not knowing what to tell them, really, because you know there’s nothing you can do and they’re hanging on to the tinies glimmer of hope.
I really enjoy going into the garden, in the fresh air. It’s a wonderful moment whan I can go out and breathe in some fresh air. Even though it’s cold, I go out, I sit on a chair and I breathe fresh air because my lungs are so oxygen-deprived.
Here everything is fluid within the current legal system…
I simply know that you cannot trust the British Government, you shouldn’t, you can’t in such situations… The status quo might change from one day to the other, the law doesn’t work here, you have the law operating retrospectively here, right? Here it’s not like in the continental system, in the Polish system, that a right gained once remains a right for the rest of your life, right?
Considering the story of the Windrush generation, what they did to the Jamaicans… My trust in the British Government on a scale of zero to one hundred is minus two hundred.