Staff frantically wave us out of the way, pushing gurneys carrying men and women on mobile respirators – it’s not chaos, but it is hectic.

They rush past wards already rammed with beds all filled with people in terrible distress – gasping for air, clutching at their chests and at tubes pumping oxygen into their oxygen-starved lungs…

Masked, gloved and in a hazmat suit, my team and I are led through corridors full of gasping people who look terribly ill.

I ask what ward I am in.

“This isn’t really a ward, it’s a waiting room, we just have to use every bit of space,” my guide, Vanna Toninelli, head of the hospital press office tells me.