Caracas Chronicles

It was around 8:00 pm when the medical intern working that night’s shift said the hospital was on fire. “La planta eléctrica que está por el área COVID explotó y está prendida en candela”, he wrote on our WhatsApp group. We all work together in the nephrology area at the Dr. Jorge Lizarraga Children’s Hospital, the pediatric hospital inside the Enrique Tejera Hospital City (CHET) in Valencia, the third-largest city in Venezuela. Children with kidney diseases can be very delicate, and as soon as the hospital director and the chief of the nephrology department heard about the fire, they immediately ordered the evacuation of all patients. 

I was nearby, so even though it wasn’t my shift, I ran to the hospital to help my coworkers get the patients out. The scene was complete chaos: parents were running away with their children, and a bunch of ambulances outside from 08OOBIGOTES—the ambulance service our narcissistic dictator branded with his fake superhero image—were helping to relocate kids that were in fragile condition to other hospitals. Firefighters had already arrived, but they took some time to take out the fire. I heard some people say that there was no water in the firetruck when it arrived, but I can’t confirm if that was true. 

When I stepped inside, the hospital was in complete darkness—I had never seen it like that before. It reminded me of the three-day blackouts. Fortunately, power remained in the most critical areas, like the ICU and neonatal unit, but the nephrology ward, where I work, had none. By the time I arrived, patients were already being led down the stairs by that night’s resident. The scene was filled with frightened children and anxious parents.

Some children were sent home, while we relocated others in the adult hospital, though conditions there weren’t the best. The chief of the nephrology department had to talk with the hospital director to find a clean and cool area for a patient with an abdominal catheter, which required special care to avoid infections. Luckily, the fire was put down at midnight and left no casualties.

Because of the incompetence of the corrupt elite that rules us—people who will never set foot in a public hospital—Venezuela’s most vulnerable children are forced to endure trauma.

The generator was repaired the following day, but power remained unstable throughout the week. Many scheduled hospital admissions were delayed, while those who had no choice but to stay endured stifling heat due to the lack of proper air conditioning.

High temperatures are more than just uncomfortable for patients and healthcare workers—they can hinder recovery. Maintaining stable indoor conditions with closed windows is crucial to reducing the risk of infections or reinfections, especially for immunosuppressed patients, as is often the case with nephrology diseases. 

The electricity eventually stabilized, and the air conditioning is running again. The fire was reported by some news outlets, like El Carabobeño, but it quickly faded without much attention. Even some of my own family members only heard about it from me

There are many reasons this barely made the headlines, even within our own state. There weren’t any casualties and with so many crises in our country, it’s impossible to keep up with them all. Power outages lasting several hours are still common in Carabobo. But we can’t ignore censorship as a key factor. As soon as we were discussing how to handle work the day after the fire, there was a consensus not to make any public statements. It’s not like most health workers support the government, far from it. But they fear the consequences of speaking out. And I include myself in that. I’m only human.

Yes, the hospital’s electricity has been restored. Yes, thanks to the swift response of physicians, nurses, and firefighters, the situation didn’t escalate further. But that doesn’t change the bigger truth: the same state that normalized Carabobo’s blackouts—very likely causing this fire—is the same state that fuels a climate of fear, making it nearly impossible to even talk about these problems, let alone solve them.I still remember a little girl with a fractured leg. She had a fever and had to be evacuated that night, with nurses administering medicine outside to keep it under control. She kept repeating, “Don’t make me go back to the hospital! I’m scared!” Because of the incompetence of the corrupt elite that rules us—people who will never set foot in a public hospital—Venezuela’s most vulnerable children are forced to endure trauma. And as if that weren’t enough, the fear of speaking out against the dictatorship has left people just like the hospital that night: in complete darkness.