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.
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.
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