They put in 14-hour shifts seven days a week nursing Covid patients, walked house to house checking for symptoms in 1.59 crore households, stood guard at inter-state borders on highways, handled midnight distress calls, organised ambulances for emergencies, and conducted every health survey the government ordered.
If this were not enough, some of them had to stay away from their children and elderly parents for months. While most of us got tired of sitting around in our homes last year, the phrase 'Covid fatigue' clearly has a different connotation for the thousands of women — from ASHA workers and nurses to doctors, administrators, and cops — who have led the Covid fight.
As State National Health Mission (NHM) Director Dr Arundathi Chandrashekar says, "they have made sacrifices and borne many hardships in their effort to effectively manage the pandemic."
Leadership at every level
Coincidentally, March 8 also marks the day on which Karnataka reported its first Covid-19 case last year. Twelve months down the line, the memories of their struggles are fresh in the minds of these women. Precisely why the 2021 United Nations' theme for International Women's Day resonates much with the journey of these Covid warriors. The theme, 'Women in leadership: Achieving an equal future in a Covid-19 world', intends to highlight the impact women worldwide had — as healthcare workers, caregivers, innovators and community organisers during the pandemic.
There was no dearth in the state of this leadership at every level as nurses in Covid wards stayed away from their families six months at a stretch and 40,000-odd Accredited Social Health Activists (ASHAs) knocked on the doors of 1.59 crore households to check if anyone in the family had Covid-like symptoms or were at risk, during a one-of-a-kind house-to-house survey that Karnataka undertook at the peak of the pandemic.
D Nagalakshmi, State secretary, Karnataka Rajya Samyuktha Asha Karyakarteyara Sangha, is a familiar face for any grassroot health worker. She's has been witness to the everyday struggles of 42,524 workers in the state. The women, in their trademark pink saree-uniform, took to the streets late last year to demand Rs 12,000 per month, which is the basic minimum wage fixed by the labour laws of the state.
"Their salary does not compensate for their hard work. They should have proper work timings. If a woman in labour contacts them for delivery even in the middle of the night, they have the responsibility of taking her to the hospital," says Nagalakshmi, adding, "Adjusted for inflation and their workload, they should get a minimum Rs 18,000 to Rs 21,000 a month."
Pushpa M C, nursing superintendent at Suguna Hospital, has 90 nurses working under her supervision. Sixty-five of the nurses are women.
"Nurses who lived in the hostel would visit their parents at least once in 15 days. During the pandemic, they did not see their parents up to six months or even one year. Their life was all about seeing patients in Covid wards and coming back to the hostel. After Covid, they were given 15 days to 30 days leave. Professional lives came at great sacrifices in personal lives," says Pushpa.
Dr Rajani Nageshrao, Deputy Director, Immunisation, Department of Health and Welfare, is in-charge of all things vaccination in the state. Vaccinating newborns with routine injections was a challenge during the lockdown, but the immunisation wing of the State health department did not fall back on the coverage. However, vaccinating adults against Covid was a new challenge. "We had to start from scratch," she says. The immunisation wing has been working 12 hours every day to make this possible.
As many as 31 district immunisation officers report to Nageshrao. Her most challenging and exhausting responsibility was handling the 108 ambulance service during the peak of the pandemic. She was in charge of patient transfers in Bengaluru's Covid hospitals. It was a time when the state was trying to ramp up hospital facilities like ICUs and ventilators as patients ran from pillar to post for a hospital bed.
"Providing beds and handling distress calls was too tough a job. It used to take up 20 hours of my day. Answering calls of the public and everyone else, took away my breath and emotions," she says.
"Many times, I could not talk to my daughter who is working miles away in the United States. I had official calls to attend, or public distress calls. I would get calls on two phones simultaneously," she recalls.
Chandrashekar recalls an equally hectic period. "There was no time for personal life or family. It was almost 24/7 as I was involved with surveillance from March itself. Before becoming the Director of the National Health Mission, I was a special officer for surveillance. We had no weekends and had 14-hour workdays," she says.
"I live with my aged parents, both octogenarians, and need to look after them at home. With elderly people at home, there was always the lurking possibility of contracting Covid outside and putting them at risk. It was an emotionally draining experience. Stress just kept adding up," she says.
But Chandrashekar, just like all the other Covid warriors, kept swimming.