Originally Posted by
A fucking brilliant intensivist
I’m an intensive care specialist in a small city.
Coronavirus isn’t just like the flu, but it’s only really very dangerous to the elderly or the already unwell. Quite a lot of people in their 80s will die, but most of the rest of us will probably be okay.
If you’re in your 70s and you get Coronavirus, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
If you’re in your 60s and you have a heart attack, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
If you’re in your 50s and need bowel cancer surgery, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
If you’re in your 40s and have a bad car accident, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
If you’re in your 30s and have terrible pre-eclampsia as a complication of pregnancy, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
If you’re in your 20s and have a bad reaction to a party drug, you’ve got a really good chance of survival. If I’ve got a bed for you.
I have 7 beds equipped with life support machines. We have a plan to increase to about 25. Getting more isn’t a matter or more equipment or more money, that bit is easy. There are not enough skilled staff, even if we all work double shifts every day for six months (and we probably will).
If 50% of my city gets infected, that’s 75,000 people. If 5% of them need life support (which is the estimate), that’s 3750 people. For 25 beds.
And then I might not have a bed for you.
So it’s up to you to flatten the curve. Wash your hands. Stay home.