(To the nursing assistants, to the nurses and to the sick. To all the fighters)
It dawns in a large public hospital in Catalonia, a university and reference center. Sixth floor. Oncology, hematology, general surgery and an angiology office. A hallway with double rooms. At one end of the wing, a restricted area with wonderful views; On the other, a second window, two rest areas and five elevators (three for sanitary use, A, B and C)... And she. The vending machine.
Patient 3346XX's companion is a man who has been sad for days. Nothing makes him smile, not even the musical sound that comes from one of the three cars in the hallway. They are a type of drawers with wheels that help healthcare personnel distribute and control medications. Each has a yellow bucket with a red lid for hazardous waste. Syringes, needles, biological remains.
The carts also have a Toshiba computer and a little sign (“at the end of each shift: replace the material, throw away the garbage, change the container and clean the surface”). One of the computers usually has a music station connected, in the background and at a volume that does not bother anyone. But the sad man only has ears for the purring that escapes at regular intervals from the vending machine.
He has spent so many hours in front of this thing of iron, glass and humming that the saddened man has humanized him and granted him the gift of speech. “Vending, a neologism that seems to be an Anglo-Saxon lexical import and that does not exist in English, nor does bungee jumping exist. “Even the name you gave me is ugly!” He imagines he tells her. The name of the machine, however, is not the only thing questionable.
An advertisement says: “Here you can choose healthy. “Less sugar, less fat, more fruit, more natural products.” The truth is that there is no natural fruit in any of its 55 boxes. There are, yes, bags of almonds and walnuts. Also water (half-liter bottles, at 1.15, 1.20 and 1.25 euros, depending on the brand), along with “crunchy breadsticks with sunflower seeds” and tomato, cheese and oregano pancakes “without oil.” Palm".
Other options, alas, will not please nutritionists or hospital specialists, and here are some of the best in Spain. Candies, chocolates, chips... Sugary soft drinks and cola (regular and zero) coexist with industrial buns and two “energy” drinks that deserve a separate chapter. These products sponsor sporting events and invest large sums in advertising, but...
These are drinks that are as popular and well-known as they are controversial. The Spanish Agency for Food Safety and Nutrition (Aesan) advises against their regular and excessive consumption, which makes it even more creaky to see them in vending machines installed by a third party in a health center. Or in health centers, in the plural, because this case may be more or less questionable, but it is by no means unique.
Aesan, the public entity that ensures food safety, reminds (see here) the “associated risks” of such products, particularly among young people, hypertensive patients and people with other health problems. They are characterized by a high caffeine content, whose abuse “can cause unwanted physiological effects,” such as “altered sleep and behavior,” among other “cardiovascular and psychological disorders.”
Some communities are finalizing projects like the one in Galicia to prohibit its consumption among minors. The new heads of the Ministry of Health applaud the measure promoted by the Xunta and are studying a law that equates energy drinks with alcohol. For now, they give us this advice: “If you finally decide to consume them, do so occasionally and limit your intake to smaller formats.”
Letting inanimate creatures speak, even in a dream, has its counterpart. If the machine has the gift of speech, it also has the right of defense. “Neither I nor the hospital staff are ultimately responsible for the products. And free will? The coin slot is also not up to the height of a child. If a flower does not make spring, why do two products bring autumn among so much offer?
“Enjoy a relaxing moment,” says the motto of the vending company. Perhaps that is the main added value of your machine. Let family members and patients who can leave the room for a while and forget, at least for a moment, about blood pressure, platelets and pending tests. Anyone standing next to the machine will have a box for a great show. Life.
An older couple. She, connected to an oxygen bottle; him, the frank smile and the wet look. They have not managed to get anything from the vending, but they are in a kind of bubble, both inside and outside the hospital. She says: “Aren't you tired, after so long, darling?” He responds: “Of course I get tired, but I am where I want to be: with you.” The machine undauntedly attends dozens of such dialogues every day.
There are always people in the rest area. A very large group (sometimes they have had to be reminded that there should only be two relatives per patient in the rooms) debate an uncertain future before the machine: palliative care, a transfer to a socio-health center or taking their loved one home? ? Unfortunately, they will not have time to decide because time will end up deciding for them. Life, death.
They will soon know, that same afternoon, what Delibes meant in Lady in Red on a Gray Background when he talks about absences and those souls that "with their mere presence lighten the sadness of living." A scream tears through the stillness of the sixth floor: "Oh, my dad! Oh, my dad, what a shame!" In the following hours the machine will remain surprisingly alone, longing for the bustling presence of this family.
All nursing assistants and all nurses are our health infantry, our assault troops against health failures. Bless you. Montserrat F., an extraordinary soldier, has just advised a patient to walk down the hallway to loosen up the numbness. Immediately afterwards, she runs back to say nothing. “We have an outbreak of influenza A at the plant. Don't go out if it's not essential." Goodbye to the walk.
To the walk and the soliloquy with the machine, which to make matters worse has broken down (although its sisters on the fifth and fourth floors do work). The lady with the cariñete and the oxygen bottle was discharged a few days before. When she was leaving in elevator B, Amaral was playing on the Toshiba in the cart: “I want to live, I want to scream, I want to feel.” It was 2:58 p.m. on the 29th and the Los 40 Classic list will confirm the veracity of the data.
Before, during and after Christmas, the vending machine on the sixth floor has remained oblivious to everything. To the collapse of emergencies and the recurring threat of covid and respiratory viruses. To the ups and downs. To pain and joy. From January 1 to 5, when they finally repaired it, it was dark, off, not working. Nothing better sums up what everyone is looking for in this and all hospitals: a return to the light.
After 19 days, another couple from this chronicle finally returned home: patient 3346XX and the saddened man, her companion. Before leaving, they took one last look at their iron, glass, and buzzing friend. She said goodbye without saying it in words and, like so many people around the world, united by the scourge of disease, hunger or war, they placed blind faith in a better tomorrow.
