Ah, lovely Nurse Anita, it wasn’t your fault that I woke up on Friday morning with one side of my face swollen up like I’d been punched.
And it wasn’t your fault that the swelling…erm…swelled over the course of the day to incorporate my ear and eye, nor that my fever spiked and sent me (more) doolally.
It wasn’t your fault that it was also my youngest’s birthday and I spent it first at the GP and then, by Saturday afternoon, in A&E.
It wasn’t your fault, lovely Nurse Anita, that the A&E department at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon, resembled a war zone, filled with sick people left to wait it out on the floor, with sick bowls full of sick left to linger and be accidentally kicked over, with bloody tissues and swabs and empty bottles and cups and food wrappers and papers piling up under chairs and in corners, nobody’s responsibility, nobody’s department to take pride in, no budget set aside for a cleaner.
It wasn’t your fault that the nice fella at the check-in desk warned me the wait would be very long as I cast around for a place to sit, nor that when I found a chair with only one bowl of vomit to move and a pile of bloody cotton wool, the woman opposite told me she’d been there since 9am.
It wasn’t your fault that when my fever spiked again in the waiting room and the triage nurse said she’d try to find me somewhere to lie down, there was nowhere to lie down, nor that when another nurse inserted a cannula in my arm in readiness for the drip he knew I would need, I was sent back to the waiting room to sit for a further three hours, with no treatment.
It wasn’t your fault that when a doctor finally called my name I was too delirious to hear it until she shouted very loudly, nor that she queried meningitis which made me cry ALOT in shock as a nurse pumped antibiotics and paracetamol into my arm while a lovely specialist said he thought not meningitis YET but a deep flesh infection which needed me to be admitted promptly for intravenous antibiotics, morphine, steroids and “lots of rest and food and drink.”
Nurse Anita, this when I knew that A&E may have been hellish, but I was soon to be enveloped in the loving arms of my NHS and MORPHINE. Everything was going to be ok.
It wasn’t your fault that when the porter came to take me to the ward, he couldn’t find a wheelchair so I had to walk, nor that it didn’t occur to him to offer to help with my bag even though I could barely walk, nor that he was just a young fella on a zero-hours contract with no training or job security (I know coz I asked), nor that when we arrived at the ward, it turned out not to be a ward but another waiting room with chairs rammed tightly together, each filled with a very poorly person and where I spent a further SEVEN hours without treatment.
It wasn’t your fault, Nurse Anita, that the staff in this ‘admissions suite’ hadn’t read their copy of the NHS constitution which sets out six core values: compassion, dignity, respect, consideration, empathy and pride. I’m not sure they’d even received basic training. They treated our requests for water with rolling eyes and when I asked if the elderly lady next to me who was in excruciating pain might be offered a blanket I was told: ‘this is not a ward.’ As if we didn’t know.
It wasn’t your fault that after five hours on a chair I tearfully mentioned to a nurse that I was worried my treatment hadn’t been started yet and after an hour, she begrudgingly instructed me to lie on the only bed in the unit, in front of all the other waiters, where I was put on a drip and given steroids and MORPHINE AT LAST as I shivered under my coat (no blankets, remember).
Lovely nurse Anita, it wasn’t your fault, that the only bed they could find for me two hours later at 3am, twelve hours after I arrived in A&E, was on a vascular ward where women were recovering from amputations and crying out in pain all night so that sleep was impossible and I found my own tears kept coming until, at 6am, in you walked.
You came to me with your wonderful face, your sensational smile, asking how I was feeling and did I need an extra blanket and hang on, let’s get you some toast and you’re late for your next dose of meds I’ll get that sorted PRONTO and for the next fourteen hours of what should have been a nine hour shift, you were kind and efficient and missed all your breaks and stroked arms and reassured and organised doctors and made sure everyone was eating and when finally, you had to leave, you came to say you were sorry that I should have been discharged at 7pm because you’d organised my prescription personally and chased it three times and you knew, though you didn’t say, that I would have to take up that bed for a further FOUR unnecessary hours while I waited for medication, four hours where someone else had to wait in that hateful ‘admissions suite’.
My lovely Nurse Anita, you aren’t even a qualified nurse. You’re a healthcare practitioner which means you’re paid minimum wage, maybe a bit more, maybe not enough to feed your family. You won’t be paid for the extra five hours you worked because you weren’t asked to work them, you stayed because you chose to, because the only thing which is your fault in this sorry tale of mine, is that somehow, by some miracle of humanity, you still CARE.
Anyway, the main thing is that at least our current ‘strong and stable’ government hit their target of technically getting me out of A&E in under four hours.
Well done Jeremy Hunt.
Keep up the good work.
What awful experiences.omg. just shocking 😦 you have been through trauma just being treated in hospital! Thank god for that one person who cared for you Xx I’m so sorry this happened to you😔
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It did WONDERS for my PTSD vomit-trigger…🤣
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Your email arrived and I thought Oh good! I’ll enjoy reading the latest … But no, not good at all, is it? We really need to get rid of the people who have wrecked the NHS. I hope you are feeling better now.
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Oh am so glad you look forward to it Barbara! Sorry that today’s was a tale of woe…tomorrow is the Annagram’s first birthday so full joy will be restored!
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Oh dear, definitely staying in Australia then. Hope you’re feeling better x
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🤣
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I had a similar experience here in the south of England at Christmas…they thought meningitis but the very young trainee wasn’t sure and made me do all kinds of bendy exercises… I did have a bed though within about 5-6 hours but didn’t sleep much that first night as one of the nurses (a proud Philipino lady? Who told me she only did agency work, and wanted to work her way up, after which she pulled my cover off and lifted up my top and gave me an injection in the stomach… I had no idea what for . It left a burning sensation for a little while. I was a bit shocked actually.. she came inagain early morning (5am..)and opened the curtains (great for someone w meningitis and using and eye mask to block out the light..!!). She went to give me anothe to jectiom and I felt uneasy. Asked what it was for and she said it was for people who are bedridden..? Ok. I told her I didn’t want one since I could sort of move around (just about get myself to the ensuite toilet..)
Finally her shift was over. Others came and they were all angels.
That’s what hey felt like. Angels. Hard working, caring, on top of it, rushed…angels 💖
Anyway, the window in the room was put together w black duck tape but it was still drafts and I was freezing at night so had to cover myself w my coat over one blanket. No more blankets. I wanted to take a shower ( hadn’t for a week…!), they didn’t even have a little soap bar I could use , although someone did find me one the next day and my family brought shampoo in by then. My hair was smelly, sticking out everywhere and I looked like a homeless person because I had been so ill at home and no one knew…my husband worked away all week and my daughter eventually got a neighbour who said to call an ambiance. The crew were lovely but it was freezing in the car and they apologised but couldn’t get their heater fixed (it had been like this for a while …- lack of funds again??).
Well, I could tell you more but I can tell you one thing is for sure; there is NOTHING to take from or cut back on at the hospital where I was at (Torbay). They gave me what they had, and lots of professional care from incredible nurses. I think they’re a different breed – and a little bit magic! ❤️
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Gawd! Suspicious injections sounds like a horror film!
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Injection in the stomach – almost certainly low-molecular weight heparin to prevent blood clots in legs/lungs whilst being largely immobile. But this should have been explained to you.
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No-one should be given medication, but especially invasive injections without having it explained to them why! I was a nurse for over 20 years and am shocked at the high-handedness of this nurse! All the sad tales here are sadly no surprise! I’ve been in A&E stuck in front of the ambulance entrance for a few hours on a trolley too….. Then moved to a ward where half the folk got moved in the middle of the night to a previously closed ward. It had no facilities – oxygen, bedside tables or staff! They got a bank qualified in and a bank carer!! Sadly I also saw a newly qualified nurse lean on a lady who had just had her breast removed. I can still hear that scream……
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Gosh we could write a book…
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Made me cry and cry. I was a health care assistant from the age of 16, then a qualified nurse and I’ll always be a ‘carer’. I’ve never worked with anyone in healthcare who was in it for the money but carers need the resources to make the positive difference which fuels their drive to keep caring. If the fucking Tories shag up our NHS any more than they already have it will be an appalling waste of a brilliant idea and a frankly incredible achievement. Makes me feel hollow with worry. 😔
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Thank you so much for commenting…
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very nice article.I’m so glad to read it.Do share such amazing articles with us.
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very nice article.I’m so
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