An afternoon at the end of October, in the pediatric oncology department of La Timone, in Marseille. The computer is spinning. Caregivers are used to it. But this time, it’s the drama. The nurse in front of the screen gets angry to tears. Normally, ” [elle] manages”, but there, there is a small one that is not “what anger” since this morning, another crying, and the administrative to finish. A doorbell rang at the end of the hall. We have to leave already. With a hurried step, a heavy heart, the caregiver in a blue coat takes a deep breath before rushing into the room. Above all, do not flinch. “Hello! »
Despite the efforts of adults, children “fifth floor” also feel how their hospital is rocking. “Nurses are forced to run everywhere”, says Emma, 12, a petite brunette with regrow hair. She began to be followed at La Timone for leukemia two years ago. “They are super nice and pretend in front of us, but there, you can see that they crack,” she adds.
Since July, four pediatric oncology beds have had to close for lack of staff. The other services followed. Then came the bronchiolitis epidemic in the fall. Like every year. But for the first time, faced with services in tension, she swallowed everything. On each floor, treatments – operations, chemotherapy – had to be postponed. It is now the whole building dedicated to the children of the huge Marseille hospital center that is pitching. The epidemic has mobilized “flying” nurses, those who are usually picked up by chronically understaffed services since the Covid-19 crisis. Without this available “stock”, the already fragile system seized up.
“We are not going to hold on like this”
Among the Halloween decorations that try to embellish the hallways, the service executives are looking for reinforcements. The schedules are full of holes to be plugged, the conversations heard on the fly are only requests for help. “Downstairs, do they have extra arms tomorrow?” IV pumps? Nope ? OK. » The nights, especially, are long and lonely for those who stay. On a floor, on a wall near a meeting room, nurses pinned a large circle drawn on a sheet. In the middle they wrote “Type your head here. »
“Usually, we see good resilience, assures Hervé Chambost, 60, head of the pediatric hematology, immunology and oncology department. But here, we are not going to hold on like that. » In thirty-five years in this service, he has never seen this; closed beds for lack of staff. In this center of expertise and interregional recourse, patients come from Corsica, Montpellier or Briançon (Hautes-Alpes). Some even arrived from the Maghreb, covered by an international convention. But the hospital must now refuse foreign patients, for lack of space. Ile-de-France, also under pressure, stopped calling to place young patients. They know it’s useless.
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