‘It’s what we trained for, nothing was left to chance’

THERE was an air of hushed expectation as news of the fatal plane crash began to circulate among staff and patients at Cork University Hospital yesterday morning.

Older residents in the Wilton area and hospital veterans of other disasters knew that CUH would be the centre of an emergency operation.

Shortly before 11am, the scream of garda and ambulance sirens heralded the arrival of the first of six survivors. It had been assumed that other hospitals in the region would be called on to assist but the region’s premier hospital was well able to cope. A ward in the hospital, adjacent to the emergency department was cleared for casualties and the emergency system clicked into gear.

There was no panic, no moment of terror, nor even a hint that anything might go awry in coping with this emergency. The dramatic scenes witnessed earlier at Cork Airport were in stark contrast to the calm and measured handling of the events as they unfolded at the hospital.

“It’s what we have trained for,” explained Dr Mary Boyd, director of nursing.

“Once word came through of what had happened we immediately put our major emergency plan into operation. Nothing was left to chance and everyone knew exactly what they had to do.”

Among the hospital staff working flat out were the security staff outside the entrance to A&E whose job it was to divert traffic to allow ambulances unhindered access. Their walkie-talkies were set to loud. “Only extreme emergencies allowed in,” bellowed the alert system. “Anyone else must go elsewhere.”

One press photographer nearly came a-cropper when he started snapping in the grounds of the hospital.

“Get out of here or I’ll have you arrested,” roared the security man, whose burly build suggested he meant business. “I won’t be another minute,” said the photographer who managed to get off a few more clicks before making an exit to neutral territory.

The main thrust of the hospital’s plan was to assist the survivors but it also found itself coping with the bereaved, a task allocated mostly but not exclusively to the team of CUH chaplains. A special grieving room was set aside for the relatives of those who had died and was guarded by yet more security staff.

“The bereaved have a right to privacy and to grieve in peace,” the security guard said quietly but firmly.

For once, the general election was forgotten, irrelevant, given the day that was in it. There was no talk of the dog-fight to come in Cork South Central, where the CUH is situated. The kaleidoscope of election posters flapping in the wind at the Wilton roundabout near the entrance seemed strangely at odds with the real world of sudden tragedy.

“It just goes to show what really matters,” said one local resident who is a volunteer member of Friends of the CUH.

“It reminded me of the Air India disaster in 1985. It wasn’t as bad as that, of course, but one person dying in a plane crash is one too many. All I can think of is those poor peoples’ relatives.”