The man lying in room 1, bed 3

You would almost be forgiven for thinking you were in an old folks home, because all those that are in room 1 are elderly and significantly incapacitated.

The day that I visit most are sleeping, unable to get out of bed. This isn't for want of trying as I overhear one man desperately asking for the physio who didn't come again today. Apparently there are only 3 physios for the entire hospital.

Spilt coffee cups litter the floor and I'm unsure how long they have been lying there.

There is one man in bed 3 that captures my attention, his slight frame completely overwhelmed by the hospital bed. Protruding cheek bones and sunken eyes. Silvery white and speckled grey hair. His skeletal body is covered in ugly deep purple bruises. Nasty bruises that looks like he's suffered the worst beating of his life.

You almost want to go and touch him to make sure he's still breathing.

But there is life in this 91 year old yet. It oozes from him as soon as he starts speaking to his visitor and he lights up the entire room.

"I've still got all me marbles" he tells her. You know I'm 91 I am, born in 1922. Had a good life I have."

His visitor tries to coax him into drinking and eating but he continually refuses."I don't want to mess myself" he says.

"It doesn't matter, we'll change the bedding" says his visitor.

 "There is no spare bedding" he retorts. 

"Ohhh but we have loads of spare bedding, it won't matter" his visitor tries again.

But the old boy has an answer for everything..."It will cost too much money,can't afford it".

Eventually after much coaxing and a carefully placed urinal bottle, he takes his first sips in almost 24 hours. When he pees, the excitement is overwhelming for him and the whole ward. I just want to high five him. 


His visitor is not a relative, just someone that knows him and she gets his sister on the phone from Manchester. His sister can't travel either as she isn't well. And as they're on speaker phone we all hear the conversation.  

It's evident this lovable larrikin is close to his sister. They love each other and yet will probably never see each other again. While I choke on unshed tears with these thoughts, he jokes and smiles at her from afar.   

With the phone call over his visitor tries once more to get him to eat. He does manage a few spoonfuls. 

The next day she's not there so it's up to the nurses, unfortunately they don't have the love and dedication that a friend or family member have so the food goes uneaten. When they change his bed they don't explain what they're doing, they yank the bedding out and don't understand that a man of 91 who has suddenly gone blind is owed some kind of explanation, respect and care. He screams in pain, and shakes in fear not knowing what is happening to him.

As we leave this sad place in room 1, bed 3 our lovable larrikin reminds the nurses when they again ask him to eat...

"No dear, just let me die. I've had a good life."

A system called the NHS (No Hope Solutions)

The following piece of writing comes with a warning. It is my personal attempt at expressing not only my new-found experience of the NHS (National Health Service), but how my father in law is feeling as he continues his fight to good health in a poorly run system called the NHS. I make no attempt to hide the hospitals in question, these include Charing Cross and West Middlesex hospitals. And whilst I acknowledge there are some amazing doctors and nurses that work under extreme limitations in terms of the resources available, it is most evident a major shake up of the system is needed to actually deliver a base level of service one would expect. Here is the story.

How would you envisage your old age?

Healthy, happy and full of life? A bit of arthritis and aching bones but nothing to write home about. Perhaps enjoying holidays on a sunny beach somewhere? Sipping wine in your backyard or splurging and sipping on a latte in Paris. Enjoying your family, your wife or husband, your grandchildren and generally chatting and discussing how the world just isn't the same as it used to be.

But what would happen if you got ill?

Would you welcome a trip to the hospital where you knew you would get dedicated care, encouragement and support from a team of positive, passionate doctors and nurses? Where you recuperate successfully, aided in a clean and comfortable environment. Your clothes changed daily, food orders taken, showered and able to watch the odd bit of news on television. Where doctors and nurses monitor you daily and give you the right medication. Where you are treated like anyone's father, mother or alike.

In reality....the world crashes down around you.

You wake confused and disorientated in hospital but no one explains what is happening and why you are there.  

The nurses scream at you for bending an arm the wrong way, then they grab and pull you and it's then you see a drip is attached. But why didn't they explain?

The bruises show up not long after.

Your legs won't work and you don't know why. You desperately want to walk but the physio hardly comes.

Your body and mind aches with frustration.

But your family comes every day and explain it all to you because your memory isn't as good as it used to be.  You don't know why but something is wrong.

After a routine knee operation you have had a stroke.

Sometimes food comes and other times it doesn't. You have no choices.  Being vegetarian does not matter, nor the fact your illness has impacted your ability to swallow. You still get the dry old sandwich that you glance at but recall the last time you tried to eat it and nearly choked. No point eating.

Then they tell you you're moving to another hospital. You wait 12 hours with your wife and no transport comes. When it does the new hospital isn't aware of your arrival and the nurses bicker and argue in front of you.

You get a bed in the end.  New surroundings, new people around you and still you don't know why you are where you are.

After a few weeks you wonder why you still have a catheter in. When did that appear?

The nurses refuse to help. You hear your family pleading with the doctors but they shake their head and say sorry we have to refer it to another department.

They never refer.

Give me my dignity back please.

The words don't come easily anymore. Your brain knows what it wants to say but it comes out wrong. You apologise, you cry, you apologise and cry again.

Sometimes you get angry.

Every morning and evening the nurse brings your drugs. White pills, blue pills, red pills. You're not sure what they all are.

You hear your son arguing with a nurse. Apparently you've been taking an anti-psychotic without any family approval.

Perhaps that's why you've been quiet and withdrawn the last few days with no energy to even smile at your wife when she visits you.

In the middle of the night you wake confused, wondering where you are. You yell out for help but no one comes so you try and get out of bed but fall. You lie there bleeding and hurting but you did not know that you were hurt. 

Eventually someone comes.

The fall is so bad your eye closes up and they send you off for scans.

One day when it's really hot your family brings you a fan as there is no air conditioning in the hospital. 

It disappears. 

Later your family finds it being used on the nurses desk.

Gradually your strength returns to your legs and little by little you can shuffle with the aid of a walking frame.

Unfortunately the words are still jumbled and you can't make sense of what people tell you.

You wonder when this thing called delirium will end. Will you ever be back to the way you were? When can you come home? 

Sometimes you just want to die but then you see your family, their smiles, their love and care and you cry for the chance to just get home.  You cry and you wonder what do to next.

The state of UK hospitals

I can't say visiting a hospital is the top of my list of things to do whilst in Blighty, however it's somewhere I've spent quite a lot of time at over the last few weeks. 

Now that it's a friday and I've had my glass of wine, it's time for me to write this post and vent. 

So let me share with you the state of the UK public health system and in particular Charing Cross Hospital.

I have to admit Australia probably has some bad hospitals and examples of health service, however what I've seen here chills me to the bone.

Firstly, I have to thank the 'good' nurses and doctors, as there are some. They're the ones that show compassion and respect. They take time to provide the care you'd expect in such a place. They answer your questions when you need an explanation, they don't talk down at you or use big words to show their superiority. They were born to do what they do.

However they're not all like that. We've witnessed first hand nurses yelling at patients and grabbing them in anger. They don't care that these people are alone in there, recovering from an illness, in pain, confused and angry.

We've seen the dirt and rubbish strewn amongst the hospital hallways and in the wards. Whenever it was last cleaned, whenever there was some pride in a workplace it was lost and gone a long long time ago. 

You almost need to sterilize yourself after being in there.

We've seen the lack of food provided that is meant to support the recovery of the patient. Some don't even receive anything and unfortunately if they don't have family there checking on them they hardly ever get fed. Budget cuts have meant they only get a sandwich for tea and a cup of soup. It doesn't matter if you have dietary concerns, you get what you're given. If you have trouble swallowing due to illness, to bad.

We've seen patients not get bathed for over 3 weeks. When you're that sick surely it's the small things that matter and can make a person feel like the days a bit brighter.

To say then that patients lie in their own waste for hours, have catheters fixed to them for weeks with no change should not be a surprise. Once again it's up to the family to fight for them and ask and ask again for the most basic of care.

How does a patient that goes into hospital for a basic simple operation end up staying in for weeks .... the state of the public health system.

You continually fight for answers. You continually fight for a patient to get basic care. 

The sad thing is the demand for this health system is growing and the budget is reducing. 

Unless this country has some balls to make real change, it will just get worse.

If I ever need to go to hospital, I'd rather get operated on out in the back paddock amongst green grass, trees and blue skies with a pair of old shearing clippers and a needle and thread - much less likely to catch something there!