Tamara de la Horra, a 42-year-old nurse, walks with difficulty and speaks in a choked voice, as if her batteries are running low. Tamara got covid in March 2022. She had completed the three shots of the vaccine, but she had a very bad time. She had dyspnea, cough, fever. The virus went away, but the symptoms remained. “I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t talk, I could barely eat,” he explains. Three months later he got covid again. It was a little lighter, but it also left sequels. Her legs didn’t respond to him and he couldn’t move his arms. “I’d watch a movie and the next day I’d completely forget about it,” he says. Tamara has three children and a dependent father. “Before, I was capable of anything. I worked, took care of them and the house, went to the gym for four days… Now, just making the beds the day is over”, she adds.

Irene Escorza, butcher, 46 years old, cannot lift her arms and suffers continuous tremors. She has two children. He had severe symptoms for two years and lost his job. The National Institute of Social Security considered her fit for professional life, although she “could not even lift a machete” to cut a steak. «My boss called me and I explained that I couldn’t work like that. It’s a small company and they’ve been really good to me, but I had to leave. I can’t”, he concludes. Irene’s voice breaks. He holds back the tears with difficulty. He shows the cameras his hands, which live in continuous agitation. Many specialists get rid of the hot potato with aseptic reports that only hide their ignorance. «Some experts GPs give us their support and I’m very grateful for mine, but it’s not enough. It’s a lot of impotence. You feel bad. I was hospitalized because I couldn’t walk or eat anything and now I’m dizzy. That’s our daily bread .”

«Before working, I took care of my three children and my father and on top of that I went to the gym. Now, just making the beds, my day is over»

Tamara de la Hora

Nurse, 42 years old

Noemí Pascual, 53, is also a nurse. She was infected during an outbreak that occurred at the San Pedro hospital in January 2021. “My colleagues recovered quickly, but I was left with tachycardia and dyspnea,” she recalls. They gave her treatments that only made her worse and the INSS, with bureaucratic coldness, dismissed her without ceremony at the age of one. They transferred her to the neonatal ward so she wouldn’t have to lift weights or walk up and down the stairs. Six days later he got covid again. Everything got worse. «Now at least I can speak, but I have such muscle fatigue that I can’t do anything. I roll out of bed like I’ve been at the gym for four hours. If I vacuum, I have to lie down. If I iron three shirts, I have to lie down. That’s my day to day.” «There are times when you start crying because you think nobody understands you. I have to walk because otherwise you atrophy, but the most I can walk is a quarter of an hour. In the last few weeks I’ve fallen two sometimes, once at home and once on the street… We ask for a team that values ​​us, that listens to us, something…».

«If I suck, I have to lie down. If I iron three shirts, I have to lie down. This is my everyday life. There are times when you feel like crying”

noemi pascual

Nurse, 53 years old

“Don’t leave us alone”

Tamara, Irene and Noemí met this Tuesday at noon, accompanied by some family members, at Concha del Espolón to read a manifesto. It is a day with a lot of symbolism. Three years ago, in a past that began to seem unreal, the Government declared a state of alarm and the confinement of the entire population. Covid began to sweep Spain in successive waves, leaving a terrifying trail of death, isolation, masks and fear along the way. Although life has finally triumphed and today is a cold but radiant day in Logroño, which invites you to take a walk and drink vermouth, for many, covid remains a sticky presence, from whose shadow they cannot escape.

«I lost my job because I couldn’t even lift the machete. I have dizziness and tremors. You feel very powerless”

Irene Escorza

Butcher, 46 years old

Noemí and Tamara, who read the manifesto, are sometimes out of breath: “We want us not to be left to our own devices; Don’t leave us alone”, they say. Irene is in the second row, leaning against someone else, her eyes moist, they support the requests of photographers, cameras and editors as best they can, but it is clear that they have difficulty even standing up. affected by the persistent covid in La Rioja have created a wasap group, but they are not even sure how many patients there really are. «In the group we are between 35 and 50 people, but there are certainly many more. his disease in silence”, they point out.

They ask for understanding and respect. They ask for health care. They ask for investigation. And, above all, they ask for time. If covid was their first enemy, the National Institute of Social Security has become a second virus that ends up destroying them physically and morally. “No one is going to give us a miracle pill to end the symptoms”, sums up Tamara. It’s a new disease, nobody knows how it evolves or how it can improve. And they don’t give us time. Over time we gradually improve, but they don’t even give us time. They don’t give us anything. Even if the tests go well, our life sucks.