This morning The Herald reported that Port Elizabeth’s hospitals are at breaking point. For the past couple of days I’ve been feeling very weary about this as an inevitability, but seeing it in black and white still kicked a bit.
Here’s the thing:
So may folks keep shouting about how there’s a 99.9% survival rate. Granted I don’t know the exact figure, folks just like using that one. The odds are good though. Most folks survive.
And this stat is being used as a stick to beat us all with. Oh the government is overreacting. Oh we are all sheep and we’re overreacting. Stupid peasants ruining the economy with fear tactics.
But those stats are from people who got help. People who got to hospital and were given oxygen and helped. We’re not going to get help if the infections go up. We’re going to make all of our health care providers too sick to work, for one, and for another we’re going to max out the hospitals. Which is already happening.
So. Full hospitals.
Too few medical staff.
Well now our covid riddled bodies can’t get help.
What happens to the stats then?
Do they stay at a 99.9% survival rate?
I hardly think so.
Nevermind that a hospital full of covid patients cannot take on any other patients. So. Don’t have a heart attack. Don’t have a stroke. Don’t have wonky blood pressure or blood sugar or break your arm or leg or cut yourself or get an infection or have a kidney problem or or or or….
It’s not a 99.9% survival rate. There’s a knock-on effect just waiting to snowball out of control.
It’s scary as fuck.
Wear your damn mask. Wash your hands. Stay home as much as possible.
We have to keep creating a whole new normal for now.