We must safeguard our treasured Health Service – Its always there for us
NHS STAFF CARE = NHS PATIENT CARE
Finance the changes through national insurance contributions
- Basic 35 hour week for all patient related Staff with inflation linked pay.*
- Grand Government Recruiting Drive to Train more staff taking up the necessary requisite operative hours.
- These measures will retain NHS staff, increase numbers = Added Patient Care.
- Funding through NIC which will automatically scale patients ability to part- pay. Retirees whose pension pots incur tax (but no NIC) should have a scaled payment.
(The NHS was intended to be a safety net and would remain so).
I have had a Gall Bladder operation carried out in a private hospital. I chose this after seeing the results of a NHS scan revealing a packed, thin walled Gall Bladder where urgent surgery should occur. The problem was that I might have to wait up to 18 weeks. I will mention here that 8 years ago I had a serious blockage where only by pure chance did I survive with the assistance of nature.
This time private surgery was chosen and carried out within 2 working days, but there followed a complication after returning home just two nights later.
At this point the only advice at 2.30am available was to dial 999.
Yes, it followed that the NHS was required to pick up the fall-out due to a suspected life threatening “internal leak” .
The £5,300 that I had paid for the operation did not cover any such consequences. The next 16 hours involved Emergency Services and A&E. – this was of course FREE (sounds unfair), but it was more pressing than the original operation.
Naturally, all was hardly ideal – this Free Service is totally over worked and an assessment needed to be made over the phone to determine where on the constantly increasing list of desperate patients this latest consideration should be placed?
I posed a problem because it was possible that I had trapped gas but ‘a leak’ gave identical symptoms leaving not too much time to act.
Nevertheless I was asked over the phone to categorise the pain on a scale of 1-10. This is not easy for a man who obviously has never given birth. I settled on a ‘7’ and was told that someone would get back to me as they were exceptionally busy (not surprising as we are just a few miles from the Midlands confluence of motorway networks).
Sincere apologies were given with genuine feeling, but as I gazed down on my increasingly extended stomach (oh, that was the birth/pregnancy connection) I wondered if I had calibrated my pain correctly.
I now had time to observe the growing, and painful problem – all was not well!
Another call followed apologising and offering relevant information which included “please leave front room and any outside lights on”.
An hour later a kindly person phoned explaining he was a paramedic and that a colleague was about to arrive.
The colleague was a young mother of a 2 year old; she was calm, reassuring and honest. Her training was, by her own admission, surrounding ‘missing limb accidents’ and her tests on me caused her some bewilderment in what she felt was a man immanently about to give birth to an enormous fart. I should explain here that my keyhole surgery had incurred the normal introduction of CO2 gas to separate internal organs enabling visual as well as practical actions. The gas usually escapes.
My wife joined in the light hearted chatter surrounding ‘what to do next’, but another hour had passed with no consequence other than advanced bloating.
Her professionalism meant a call to a doctor where she explained that she was unsure in sending me to A&E with ‘wind’. His reply was pretty quick.
There followed a silence; I was told that the doctor she had spoken to had lost a patient with suspected wind due to there was, in fact, an internal leak (my ‘private hospital release pack’ had advised a 999 call for serious bloating).
Reassurances were given with a “sorry, you have to go to hospital; you will be safe there if a leak is discovered.”
An ambulance immediately arrived (I guess I had been upgraded and that my 7 out of 10 was not so relevant now. The crew were simply Great!
It followed that A&E at Northampton General Hospital were methodical; I was checked and passed through the system at very regular intervals. All this happened when it was obvious that the night had been strenuous for these very special people who try to keep us alive whilst minimising pain. The new day had dawned but there was no let-up in demands upon them. Some had the appearance of being exhausted, but they were undeterred.
There was a sense of production line, but it is not a fruit packing factory. There really is little time for niceties – on reflection I feel embarrassed that even the thought had crossed my mind.
The promised consultant/surgeon did not materialise but I was reassured I was better off here if something drastic happened; regular basic tests continued. X-rays were taken.
Another couple of hours saw me admitted to a ward, yes, the all important and costly but free bed was provided.
A senior and tired nurse complained that my private hospital status meant she could not access my file. I wanted to ask ‘why not? It is my property. Can I phone?” But she was gone as a student registrar examined me, again wanting to know the 1-10 scale of pain.
I was appointed a dedicated nurse who made sure monitoring continued by helpful assistants, but it was now 4pm and only having had sips of water with still a promise of a consultant surgeon, I felt that I was flagging, but a possible operation was still a possibility.
The varying degrees of agony and emotions in adjacent beds interspersed with near lifeless forms were distressing to behold – it was extremely busy and the daunting threat of a weekend night was scary.
We need to remind ourselves of our own selfishness, every person is important, if not more so than oneself due to individual cases.
Unfortunately self preservation doesn’t naturally allow for such considerate thoughts. Patients and accompanying relatives press for immediate answers, some of which are impossible to be immediately given by any member of staff (at all levels) in an ongoing pursuit of establishing correct treatment; it is easy to see how extreme pressure mounts all round.
Finally a registrar arrived at my bedside and prodded me whilst requiring that all important ‘1-10 pain scale. He was frustrated with my manly bravery so prodded directly on the operation to reveal my score of 10. I apologised for the resultant violent knee and co-ordinated arm action. Further poking resulted in “You can’t go home – I will see you later”.
I listened to my 67 year old body and managed to argue for permission to move about; gas began to escape. I felt it was right to visit the small garden that was essentially for smokers and smiled at the thought of how well we complimented each others activity.
Three hours later I was allowed home – it had all been a waiting game to see what happened in the knowledge that the hospital would have leapt into action if there had been that life threatening leak. The NHS had checked and served me well just as it endeavours to do for one and all under increasing strain.
Conclusion – We all need to realise that the NHS is precious; it treats us with no hidden agenda. We need to treat it with reciprocal consideration and play our part as best we can at every level to see that it succeeds and continues.
Fine words are not enough; we need to press for action and individually participate to ensure that the coming decades allow for the increasing burden to be funded correctly.
That requires legislation to encourage fairness and protection accordingly. Waiting times need to be addressed.
A massive task that needs to start now before it fails through no fault of its personnel.
*For more detailed information – (research internet – “working hours RCN for pay rates and conditions)
