York-trained medics are heading to Africa to join the fight against ebola. Chris Webber reports.

THERE are two fences of prison-like bars at the replica hospital with more than an arm’s reach between them. One side of the fence of bars is for desperate family members; the other for those suspected of contracting the deadly ebola virus.

Those families, living in Sierra Leone, one of the poorest countries on earth, have to also gaze upon futuristic-looking nurses and doctors hidden behind visors, masks and full-length protective clothing treating their loved one.

It must be like looking at a frightening vision from another world, a world made real, and the army reserve medics being trained at the Army Medical Training Centre outside York are instructed to break down those barriers as much as is possible. They let the families see their eyes, talk to them, reassure, tell those desperately worried something about themselves.

It’s just one part of the intense training over ten days for this highly experienced, batch of nurses and medics. Most of them seem middle-aged, many have children. They are heading out to Africa on December 20, giving up their Christmas with their families in the name of duty and care.

Another aspect of what faces them is the heat. When we enter the basic-looking model hospital in chilly York the heat is bearable. And yet all the while the heaters are blasting away and by the time we leave three hours later the temperature is running at 27 degrees Celsius.

We journalists remove our coats and jackets as the medics carefully, slowly, don an elaborate array of protective gear. They put on their kit with a partner, each checking the other, as this is the simple plastic protective gear that will save their lives.

It is sweltering underneath it and must be worn during their eight hour shifts in what can be blistering heat over their 60-day stint. Some have reported losing 11 kilos in weight in four weeks.

As the trainees don their protective clothing, Lt Col Jaish Mahan, in charge of this vital facility, gives us an overview of what is happening.

He explains the British Army has built a hospital space in Kerrytoun, he explains, which will eventually be handed over to Save the Children. It is that 12-bed hospital which has been recreated in York. It is not for the general public but for health care workers, British and other foreigners to Sierra Leone, but also, crucially, Sierre Leonian health care workers too, who are suspected of having contracted ebola. Those health care workers must deal with a nation’s health care, and that doesn’t just mean the ebola outbreak. If too many are sick the entire health care system would disintegrate.

Lt Col Mahan, with the intensity of a man doing important work, tells something more of the concept of the replicated hospital. “Everything is the same as in Kerrytoun, or as much as is humanly possible,” he says, “the structure is the same, the temperature the same, even the posters are the same. We have a weekly conference with Sierre Leone and they tell us changes, no matter how small.”

The first ward in the hospital is for those being assessed for the disease and patients must be kept apart from each other. It’s here that the army reservists, most of whom work in the NHS in their day-to-day lives, are given role plays.

“One thing they find hard to learn is not to touch the patients as much,” says trainer and nurse Major Mari Roden. “They’re nurses, carers, they naturally want to touch, reassure, especially they have lost so much visual communication behind the visors. We teach them how they can still be kind to patients.”

One role play involves a ‘patient,’ often a soldier, vomiting, as part of a process where he or she becomes progressively more ill. “It’s not real vomit,” laughs Mari, “it’s a capsule of chicken soup. But it is vital they learn to deal with the bodily fluids and stay safe while at the same time dealing with not just one sick person, but potentially, many coming in.”

Later I take the chance to talk one of the brave, in fact heroic, medics about to fly over to Sierra Leone. Warrant Officer Mark Coussons, of Marske, east Cleveland, but based at the reserve detachment centre at Norton, Stockton.

He is 46, married with two children, aged 20 and 16 and is a very keen Boro fan. If he wasn’t willingly about to put himself in the centre of dealing with one of the deadliest outbreaks of disease in modern times, he would be like any other guy you would meet on the street. He is well aware that anyone contracting ebola has only a 50/50 chance of survival.

As you might expect, Mark, who served as a soldier for 25 years, wears his obvious bravery lightly. “I volunteered,” he reveals, “it’s what I’m trained to do. I have no worries about it, our training is absolutely meticulous. You slow down, you pay attention to detail, you have discipline.”

Are his family worried? “They’re accustomed to it.”

With that Mark gets back to learning how he do his bit to stop this horrific disease spreading around the world.