Like
many north Londoners, I have marched to save the Whittington several times. I
have attended meetings, and spoken out about planned bed closures, endless
reorganisations and staff shortages. Last week, I attended the hospital as a
patient for day surgery; my gallbladder was removed using keyhole surgery.
We
have all read stories about the crisis the NHS is in; government cuts, and
a constant move to outsourcing and privatisation are having negative
consequences for patients across the country. However, nothing prepared me for
how much the Whittington would have declined since I was last admitted there in
2011.
The
first thing to mention was the filthy state of the hospital. When I
arrived at 7.30 am, I saw most, if not all, of the hospital workers entering
completely ignoring the very prominent hand sanitising stations; I seemed
to be the only person availing myself of them. I thought that perhaps the
workers would be cleaning their hands when they reached their areas of work,
and dismissed my concern. However, as the day wore on, I saw more and more
alarming signs. A bin on the day treatment ward, metres from where people lay
recovering from operations, was overflowing. A full bag of rubbish sat on top
of the bin, into the bargain.
A
nurse, attending one of my dressings, asked my partner to help, without
first asking her to wash her hands, despite her just having
arrived.
Another
nurse, having dropped the disposable peak flow mouthpiece on the floor, looked
at it for a moment and then fixed it to the machine and offered it to me
to put in my mouth.
A
toilet was so caked in excrement at one point that I felt obliged to find an
alternative one.
There
was no soap in a hand dispenser...next to a big sign about how important it was
to wash one's hands.
Apart
from the issue of hygiene, there was clearly low, nay no, morale amongst
staff. I do not want to criticise the staff; low paid, working long hours,
mismanaged and undervalued, I am an awe of nurses. There was
clearly tension between nurses and their superiors; at one point,
after being criticised, I think by a doctor, one nurse walked away
muttering "how stupid do you think I am? God help us..." It is not
reassuring for patients to hear this sort of altercation.
One
of the issues we have heard much about in terms of the Whittington is the
planned bed closures, and the worries that it would have adverse
effects on healthcare out outcomes. Last year, in an apparent u-turn, the
Whittington board stated that there would be no bed closures. However, in their
report, they said, 'changes to wards and beds will still happen...these are
dependent on services continuing to be commissioned at the Whittington
Hospital.' (1)
When I remained in a lot of
pain, to the extent that I fainted at one point, and when one of my
incisions kept seeping through the dressing, it was reluctantly suggested that
I stay overnight. The nurse in charge of my care at that point explained that
there were no beds and so they would need to get rid of someone else before
offering me a bed. I waited for several hours, in pain and afraid, but also
angry that our vital NHS had deteriorated to this appalling extent.
When I was finally taken to
Coyle ward, the nurse who took me there struggled for some time to find a
nurse to hand me over to. "Is there a nurse on the ward?" she
incredulously asked out loud, walking from bay to bay. Several emergency
response alarms were constantly going off at once, as people buzzed in
vain for medical attendance. Later, an elderly woman got out of her bed
and, holding onto a wall, asked my partner and I to help her find a nurse. She
was clearly desperate and distressed.
Another woman was informed
that she could go home that night, but they wouldn't be able to give her any
pain medication to take home, as they had run out.
I myself kept asking for pain
medication, and was eventually given some. It was shortly after that point that
I decided to go home. I explained to the nurses that I felt it was the safer
option, and that the hospital was in meltdown. They tacitly agreed.
The next day we managed to
procure me some painkillers through the out of hours service, which was very
efficient. When my partner explained the experience we had had at
the Whittington, a doctor replied "well, you should have had a better
experience than that, but I am not surprised to hear about it."
The fact is though, what I
have described above is scandalous. We should be surprised; we should be
outraged.
I never once
believed that having less beds and more 'ambulatory care' was anything
other than a cost-cutting measure, and my experience, and clearly that of
others, has sadly proved that. One hears of winter bed crises; one
wonders if they can be so short of beds now, in September, how much worse
it can get, and how may lives that will cost?
(1) http://ourfuture.whittington.nhs.uk/changes-to-plans/
