< Previous– 20 – Estefania Ochoa Its certain that living through the COVID-19 pandemic has been hard in every corner of the globe. Moreover, living the pandemic in a developing country that has its own limitations on medical supplies, weakened health care system and geographic limitations. Laboratory medicine has been a corner stone and a main support during these times. The photograph shows the effort and motivation of laboratory scientists that have contributed in the pandemic despite geographical limitations. Empuje PHOTO- GRAPHY– 21 – Elena Dmitrieva Clinical causes of the COVID-19 pandemic Clinical causes of the COVID-19 pandemic PHOTO- GRAPHY– 22 – PROSE & POETRY Michael was enjoying a quiet evening at home with his wife Lizzie in their cosy cottage on the edge of town. It was eleven o’clock at night. This was his favourite moment of the day, the only one when he was able to enjoy the peace after a hard day’s work as a porter in the crumbling city hospital which was crying out to be renovated. It was an evening like any other, finally the children were asleep and silence ruled the house, a silence that was broken by the sound of his mobile. Lizzie started to chew on a thumbnail when she saw the look on her husband’s face. Twelve years of marriage made her think that something serious had happened. She waited for her answer anxiously while Michael was talking. Never had a wait seemed longer. “Love, that was the boss. Harry on the nightshift has had an accident and I have to cover for him.” Michael shot out of his armchair and, in less than five minutes, was ready to leave. Lizzie couldn’t believe that he was actually going back in. He had so many complaints about work that he practically had a full stand-up routine on it. Alone now, Lizzie tossed and turned. A voice from nowhere made her sit bolt upright, “He’s lying.” Not stopping to question it, she instinctively grabbed her car keys. She made it in less than ten minutes. The car park was almost empty, allowing her to see Michael’s car easily. Her hands covered her face and tears followed. Guilt and relief fought for her attention. Being irrational like this just wasn’t her. She was about to turn the car around and go home, ashamed of ever doubting her husband, when it occurred to her that it might cheer Michael up to see her. She got out of the car, slammed the door and half-jogged towards the hospital. Everything was dark and silent, but it didn’t take her long to find him. He was pushing a gurney into a lift. Seeing that he hadn’t noticed her, Lizzie ran towards the closing doors, leaping in at the last moment. His surprised expression soon fell away, replaced by a look so sinister that it froze Lizzie in place. “Oh my god, Love, what are you doing here? Now, you can never leave.” Maria Ercibengoa Arana Nobody knows what can happen in a hospital. In Spain, it is said that you know when you enter but not when you go out (Thriller mini story) – 23 – The hand of God It was 25th November 2020 and I felt worse than ever before, the pain had become unbearable. I knew it wasn´t the best time to be going to hospital, in the middle of a pandemic, with the world facing a huge wave. Sometimes it was difficult to understand the experts´ language – were they talking about a virus or a mountain? So many climbs, plateaus and descents. But one thing was clear – the virus was here to stay, and we had better get used to it. I went alone to the hospital, not wanting to put any of my family at further risk. Although I was very pale, writhing in pain, it was difficult for me to try to convince the nurse at the entrance that I needed to be attended. She very brusquely asked me if I had turned on the news recently – The ER had more important things to deal with than pain – better to take some painkillers and stay at home. With that I passed out. The next time I opened my eyes I was lying on a bed. I watched a nurse approach in goggles, apron and mask, the goggles did nothing to disguise the fear in her eyes. I wanted to tell her to relax – I wasn´t here because of Covid – but the pain and fear kept me mute. I had seen this nurse on tv, along with her colleagues, crying out for more PPE and more help with their patients. I don´t know if it was because I knew the Doctor personally or he treated everyone in the same way, but he couldn´t do enough for me, offering words of comfort and doing his utmost to help me. I eventually fell into a deep sleep, finally free from pain for the first time in a long time. It was strange to me that even though I´m a football fan, my first thoughts were about my football team. I could clearly see the blue and white striped jersey running around the pitch, it was the cup final, and they were one-nil up! I was back in my childhood, sucking my thumb just like a used to, my beloved threadbare football top tightly held in my fist. I was in my glory days – no pain, only peace. I also thought about my brother. Always with me, the both of us always laughing. I can´t remember the last time we laughed together like that. How I miss it. I started to hear a whirring noise, like a big fan. I didn´t want to wake up and face the breeze. The sound of voices had me reluctantly opening my eyes, which were met by the gaze of my doctor. The sensation of being in a swimming pool engulfed me, I struggled to catch my breath and suddenly I realized that I wasn´t in the hospital, I was in my own bed, at home like always. It had been a nightmare. I had a temperature and thought it must be a side effect of the vaccine I had received the day before. I fumbled around my twisted sheets, looking for my phone. Squinting at the bright screen I barely registered the date – November 26th. I tried to make sense of what I´d been dreaming about, the only part that was clear was the football stuff. My mother came into my room. Her face melted with relief when she saw I was awake. I asked her about my team. She told me that there was no news about them, but she reminded me that Maradonna had died – I had been watching a tv special about his life when I fell ill. Some days later, I read the news about two nurses who were filling gloves with warm water and placing them in Covid patients´ hands so that they wouldn´t feel alone. The press were calling it the Hand of God. I felt terrible – a cheap glove was no substitute for the warmth of a nurse´s hand and personal attention. I thought about my doctor – he was just as football mad as me. My dream was a premonition: a few months later my team won a title after 37 years. The world continues to fight Covid, we are now in the fourth wave. Now I think about God, that at least he has two hands. Let´s hope they are enough to save us. Maria Ercibengoa Arana A reflection about COVID and the hand of God, and things that have emerged during COVID PROSE & POETRY– 24 – Pandemic It´s different this time, they said. This is a modern pandemic. We have technology, the internet - we can spread information with one click. The technology only served to help the virus spread. We logged on daily, holding our breaths. To check the ever-increasing number of deaths The race for the solution started vaccines developed faster than ever. Volunteers and researchers fighting together. Now we must all pull in the same direction. And not stop until every country has protection. Maria Ercibengoa Arana My first experience with poetry at my English class for young Spanish women (non native English speakers) PROSE & POETRY– 25 – Il Coronavirus e la nonna C’era il coronavirus, sai, quella volta! C’era il Coronavirus fuori e nonna è uscita a combatterlo. Nonna aveva paura, sì, poteva restare in casa ed aspettare che la trovasse, che bussasse alla porta, dapprima piano piano, poi più forte, che la chiamasse, che gridasse minaccioso il suo nome, che cercasse di rompere una finestra, di scendere dal camino, di abbattere la porta. Che la aspettasse al cancello quando usciva per fare la spesa, doveva pur mangiare! Ma no, decise di uscire e di andare lei a cercarlo, perché aveva delle armi speciali, aveva un talento particolare, aveva la forza della conoscenza e della ragione, perché le battaglie che combattono gli altri non erano per lei. Così andò nel suo antro buio, piena di timore, ma con tutte le sue armi in pugno e dentro una corazza quasi invincibile, ma non del tutto. Andò una prima volta e trovò quelli che l’avevano incontrato prima di lei, ma senza le armi giuste, o che erano stati colti di sorpresa, alle spalle, con l’inganno e trascinati lì privi di forze e con la convinzione che non ce l’avrebbero fatta. Lui non c’era, o non la vide, o fece finta di non vederla. Così scappò via, prima che tornasse, che la scoprisse, che l’attaccasse. Il giorno dopo però, nonna si fece forza e tornò, insieme ad un’amica che come lei la sapeva lunga, l’antro non parve più così buio, anzi, chissà come era ben illuminato. C’era un frastuono enorme, non si riusciva quasi a capire una parola, intorno a lei persone riverse a terra, con l’aria spaventata e altre che si avvicinavano e portavano aiuto, con l’aria altrettanto spaventata. Capì che non c’era tempo per paure e dubbi, che c’era bisogno di lei e di tutti quelli che potevano, sapevano, fare qualcosa e anche di chi non sapeva bene che fare, ma ci provava. Così nonna con la sua amica, e altri amici trovati lì, o arrivati in seguito, iniziò a tornare tutti i giorni, a volte portava nuove medicine arrivate da lontano, a volte faceva respirare loro un’aria più ricca di ossigeno, più pura di quella presente normalmente in quell’antro, a volte parlava loro semplicemente, cercando le parole giuste per spronarli, spingerli a reagire con le loro poche forze, a camminare sulle loro gambe zoppicanti e con il loro fiato corto, mentre lei li avrebbe aiutati con le sue poche armi e sfruttando i punti deboli del loro nemico. Lui era lì, tra loro, ma non faceva caso a lei, si sentiva forte, credeva che per quanti sforzi la nonna avesse fatto, contro la sua potenza non ci fossero armi utili, credeva di essere invincibile, sapeva che, finché la nonna fosse rimasta dentro la sua corazza, sarebbe stato inutile attaccarla, meglio lasciarla fare, sperando che si stancasse o si spaventasse, vedendo gli altri stare male e morire. Non era facile continuare, nonna scoprì che le sue conoscenze non bastavano e che spesso era necessario provare nuove strade, da cui poi si tornava indietro perché non erano quelle giuste, mentre alcuni malati cominciavano a stare meglio o almeno a lottare con più grinta, altri, invece, rifiutavano quasi ogni cosa, stanchi e troppo spaventati per voler andare avanti. Quando tornava a casa e si ritrovava sola a digerire tutto quello che aveva vissuto, visto, provato sulla sua pelle, si sentiva a volte completamente schiacciata dal peso di quella difficile esperienza, allora usciva a passeggiare e mentre vagava nelle strade di campagna con la sua cagnetta che gironzolava intorno ignara di tutto, si sentiva meglio, recuperava le sue forze e la sua pace interiore, tutto quello che le serviva per affrontare un nuovo giorno nell’antro del Coronavirus. Paula Castelli In 19 March 2020, I started again my work as a doctor, called back from retirement for the COVID-19 pandemic. The first day of work was devastating, the first weeks very hard, but my strength was stronger than coronavirus. I imagined to tell it to an imaginary grandson who never had known coronavirus PROSE & POETRY– 26 – The Frontline After the crowned dragon has awakened And climbed, after the sun, the hill of sky, In a wing stroke, the stars were swept from heaven And casted to the earth. Once more, we have heard the sound of trumpets, Once more, opened the seals of Revelation. We remembered the plagues we’ve seen in Egypt, When Pharaoh refused to set us free. We’ve witnessed again the fall of Troy, After the wooden horse has crossed its gates: Again the city walls were teared down, The fortress trembled, crumbled, and collapsed. Millions were hit, wounded and felt On the ground, earth to earth and dust to dust. The whole world again became a hospital. So I want to sing the army, men and women, Who bravely struggled at the battlefront, Side by side, Doctors, nurses, other soldiers, Blood and toil offering, tears and sweat, To defend, most of all, their patients life. They fought in the emergency, They fought in wards and nurseries, Finding scarce safety from a fragile armor, Welding a frail visor, a cotton spear. In the lab, a molecular braid is weaved So that the subtle enemy is unwoven, Until a solid immune shield is forged And safely our heroes come back home. Carlos Lemos The COVID-19 pandemic has undertaken a tragic course, reaching devastating proportions: millions of people dying every day, killed by an invisible enemy. On several occasions, we have witnessed apocalyptic scenarios, resembling past epidemics and conflicts. Healthcare facilities were pushed to their limits, with overflow of intensive care units. This poem was written as an attempt to evoke the the impact of the dreadful images we have seen and intends to be a tribute to healthcare professionals and their effort to curb this pandemic. PROSE & POETRY– 27 – Raksha K A collage made by my hospital team on how to break the chain of transmission to save lives; we are staying apart and working together. Team work when what is in the mind translates and reaches the hands. POSTER BREAK THE CHAIN TO SAVE A LIFE– 28 – Anna Dumitriu “Shielding” explores the impact of the COVID-19 quarantine on those at risk of domestic abuse and the paradoxical meaning of home as shelter. It is inspired by Virginia Woolf’s essay “A Room of One’s Own” which states that women need their own safe space in order to flourish. Those locked down with abusive partners have no safe space. This notion is set against the stark image of the hastily constructed temporary hospital ward, which became a familiar image in 2020. The sculpture is impregnated with actual SARS-CoV-2 RNA from a plasmid construct. https://annadumitriu.co.uk/ portfolio/art-data-health-commission/ Commissioned by Art/Data/Health and University of Brighton SCULPTURE Shielding– 29 – Jermy Taxidermy Protest on the number of laboratory animals used in COVID research SCULPTURE Patient ZeroNext >