BRUSSELS, Belgium 鈥 One is a pastry-cook. Another dreams of becoming a bookseller. All have slammed the door on the hospitals where they used to work, exhausted by wave after wave of Covid-19 patients.
Nolwenn Le Bonzec, a former nurse who moved from her native Brittany to the Belgian capital Brussels, recounted how she hung up her surgical uniform six months ago and hasn鈥檛 looked back.
Now she makes little coloured cupcakes. A radical shift that 鈥渟aved my mental health鈥, she says.
鈥淚 worked for five years in a hospital. Little by little I saw the working conditions go downhill, and health became a mere product. Initially, it was a profession we did to be humane,鈥 the 27-year-old says, as she wears the black apron of the 鈥淟ilicup鈥 shop where she now works.
Thomas Laurent, who worked for 15 years as a nurse, says he is now pursuing an 鈥渙ld dream鈥 of becoming a bookseller, fuelled by a lifelong passion for comic books. In January he will start training to enter that trade.
The 35-year-old Frenchman has just left the hospital emergency ward in Lyon, central France. Conditions there, he says, 鈥渨ere no longer tolerable鈥.
Despite a desperate plea by European authorities for medical staff to treat wave after wave of Covid-19 patients, these former nurses speak of disillusionment and disappointment with public health systems they say fell far short of what they were designed for.
鈥淲e have demanded better conditions for years. But the (Belgian) government simply doesn鈥檛 take us seriously,鈥 Le Bonzec says.
鈥淚f I kept on, I think I would have fallen into depression. We protested. We stood up. But it didn鈥檛 change anything.鈥
鈥楾hey died alone鈥
Recalling her days at the Saint-Luc clinic in Brussels, she explains that she questioned her choice of profession when the first coronavirus wave hit in early 2020.
鈥淧sychologically, it was really hard, to work in quarantine wards, to fight all the time just to have facemasks. We put our health and that of our families at risk. And those patients weren鈥檛 allowed any visitors. They were all alone, they died alone鈥 We weren鈥檛 enough.鈥
Staffing shortfalls weighed heavily on the care provided to patients, she says.
鈥淯nfortunately, we rushed our treatment. And when we did everything quickly, we did it badly鈥 It was insufferable,鈥 she says.
Day by day, turning up at the hospital became increasingly difficult to contemplate. Until finally she felt no more energy for her chosen job, only 鈥渇rustration鈥 and 鈥渟enselessness鈥.
鈥淪ix months on, I don鈥檛 miss my nursing days at all. I鈥檓 happy to go to work now, and to talk about my working day when I get home,鈥 Le Bonzec says.
Laurent concurs. Since ceasing to be a nurse, he says, he 鈥渟leeps better鈥. The crushing daily pressure 鈥渉as disappeared鈥. Even her 4 am starts don鈥檛 dull the shining eyes he presents over his facemask.
No more applause
The grinding reality of nursing is especially felt among the younger staff. 鈥淏ecause they go into that job full of ideals, and they get a cold shower as reality hits, and they don鈥檛 always get the support they need,鈥 says Astrid Van Male, a Belgian nurse who has changed roles to support healthcare staff coping with burnout.
The people she sees 鈥渄on鈥檛 always think about caring for themselves because they鈥檙e used to looking after other people,鈥 she says. 鈥淭hey wait until their world crumbles around them.鈥
Some feel guilty for taking vacation days, worrying that it just increases the load for their colleagues, she adds.
鈥淚f nothing is done, fairly soon we鈥檒l have no more health workers in the hospitals. Even foreign nurses aren鈥檛 accepting these working conditions.鈥
During the first coronavirus wave, applause in appreciation of medical staff echoed across balconies in Europe. During this second wave, the clapping is absent.
鈥淧eople clapping for us, but not standing up for us, that鈥檚 too easy,鈥 Le Bonzec says. 鈥淭hey need to use their energy to help us!鈥