A while ago, when I was leaving the clinic after the morning shift and out the front door, I took off my FFP2 mask and threw it in a bin. I do that after each of my services. A woman who was standing in line for visitors and had observed the scene spoke to me: “Mei, now you’ve finally made it for today.” I was deep in thought and so it took me a moment to understand: finally no more mask on my face, after seven and a half hours on our feet almost continuously on our ward. That’s what the woman was referring to. She smiled at me. It was an encouragement to me, which I thanked her with a smile.
I have accepted that we have been doing our work with FFP2 masks since Corona, because under the new circumstances this is necessary to protect our patients and also our own. Still, there are days when the mask bothers me more than others. Then that first breath in front of the clinic without anything on your face is like a liberation.
Actually, I can put away strong smells well. However, sometimes our fresh FFP2 masks have such a chemical smell that even I have to wrinkle my nose and struggle with a headache. Some of my colleagues fare even worse. The masks have to be aired out first, because otherwise there is no thought of wearing them for a complete layer: skin rashes, headaches or dizziness would be the result.
Intensive care specialist Pola Gülberg from the Ebersberger district clinic.
(Photo: Peter Hinz-Rosin)
Colleagues who are allergic to masks from some manufacturers have it the worst. You then wear two pieces on top of each other – first a medically sensitive, i.e. a particularly skin-friendly variant, and then an FFP2 mask. A sweaty procedure. Some of those affected have even consulted a dermatologist and tried various therapies there. Unfortunately with modest successes so far.
After all, we can now do something against the chemical smell, namely with mask sprays. True miracle cure: We spray the spray in the air and then pull our masks through this cloud of scent – and they smell like lemon, grapefruit and lemongrass.
Not all of our team use the mask spray in every service. For example, I do it when I see it on a colleague’s and am reminded of it, or when the chemistry in my nose gives me a headache again. Because the pleasant note of lemon and co. is not only a welcome change for me, but also helps me against a buzzing head. The deep breath in front of the clinic, after the mask has gone into the garbage after work, but still has to be.
Pola Gülberg is an intensive care nurse. In this column, the 38-year-old talks about her work at the district clinic in Ebersberg every week. The collected texts are below sueddeutsche.de/thema/Auf Station to find.