Title: A Technologist’s Perspective: How COVID-19 Unveiled the True Condition of Our Health Care System

By Kyle Wells, Radiologic Technologist

For almost ten years, I’ve operated as an X-ray and CT technologist. The role may lack glamour, but it is vital. We are the silent hands facilitating the scans—those capturing images essential for diagnosing everything from fractures to brain hemorrhages. I’ve always held significant pride in my profession, yet nothing in my education or experience could have mentally prepared me—or any of us—for the challenges faced during the COVID-19 crisis.

I aim to narrate my experience—not merely to emphasize what we experienced as health care professionals but to illuminate what the pandemic uncovered about a strained and frequently fractured health care system. It’s a narrative filled with fear, fatigue, resilience, and, above all, humanity.

The Initial Phase: Fear and Ambiguity

As COVID-19 cases rapidly filled our hospital, it felt akin to a dark shadow engulfing everything. In an instant, we transitioned from routine diagnostic imaging to emergency scanning. I distinctly remember my first COVID-19 patient—my hands trembled as I prepared the imaging instruments. Doubts raced through my mind: What if I contract the virus? What if I inadvertently infect my family?

In spite of our anxieties, we pressed on. We had no choice. The patients were relying on us. Each scan we conducted was a move toward a diagnosis, sometimes a crucial life-saving action. However, the emotional burden began early. Images of lungs marked by ground-glass opacities—a defining sign of COVID pneumonia—became heart-wrenchingly frequent. These were not solely elderly or chronically ill individuals. Many were previously healthy people whose health rapidly declined. Numerous patients were utterly alone, isolated from family, seeking solace and care from us.

The Challenge of Keeping Up

As weeks turned into months, the surge of patients became overwhelming. It wasn’t limited to those with COVID-19—individuals who had postponed routine care were now appearing with complications: advanced cancers, strokes, untreated cardiovascular issues.

The accumulation of cases was monumental.

Our imaging departments exceeded their limits. I witnessed experienced nurses and technologists quietly breaking down in the breakroom. Many worked 16-hour shifts, skipping meals, and pushing themselves to the brink, with their own health beginning to falter. Some of my closest colleagues—individuals I had collaborated with for years—made the hard choice to exit the profession entirely. They didn’t depart because they lost their passion. They left because our system offered them no alternative. They felt exhausted, unsupported, and overwhelmed.

Every exit felt like a loss—another invaluable member of an already weakened team gone.

The Human Element

Despite the demanding nature of the work, the moments that haunt me most weren’t the images or lengthy shifts. It was the human suffering.

I’ll always remember an elderly patient who wished to hold his wife’s hand before his scan. Due to visitor restrictions, she couldn’t be in the room. I offered him my hand instead. He grasped it tightly and expressed his gratitude through teary eyes. I recognized it wasn’t sufficient, and I struggled to hold back my own tears.

I observed families pacing in the corridors, their anxiety and heartache manifested in their masked expressions. I overheard farewell calls over tablets and phones, moments no family should ever have to face through a screen. With each poignant moment, I felt the burden of our collective sorrow.

A System in Distress

COVID didn’t merely reveal faults in the system—it tore it wide open.

There wasn’t enough personnel. There wasn’t adequate equipment. Scan times were delayed, at times perilously so. We were compelled to ration care and prioritize based on survival probabilities. That isn’t how healthcare is meant to function. I witnessed preventable conditions turning fatal simply because necessary treatment wasn’t timely.

For health care professionals, the strain became unbearable. Many were urged to sacrifice without acknowledgment or respite. The outcome? A significant departure from the field, intensifying the pressure on those who remained. And the reality is, many of those who left were among the most committed experts I’ve ever been honored to work with.

A Demand for Reform

As of now, things haven’t reverted to “normal”—for many of us, normal has ceased to exist. Patient volumes have actually deteriorated since the pandemic, primarily due to postponed care during lockdowns and an increasingly aging population. Forecasts indicate that healthcare demand will peak around 2040. We are unprepared.

We urgently require:
– Enhanced staffing and retention initiatives.
– Better compensation and working conditions for frontline personnel.
– Comprehensive mental health support for those in high-stress roles.
– Policies that prioritize care access for everyone, not just the insured.

This cannot merely be about surviving the next emergency—we must commit to rebuilding and reimagining how we provide care.