Tag Archives: NHS

This meeting could have been an email

I spend more of my life in meetings than I would like and often think “this meeting could have been an email.” But this week I have been in several short and very effective meetings. It is amazing what can happen when there is a clear shared purpose and the right people are in the (virtual) room. There has been research into the psychology of work meetings, and the impacts for organisational outcomes and culture. I wish everyone would be more critical of meetings and ensure they always had a clear purpose that could not be achieved by another communication method. I for one commit to pausing before sending any future diary invites!

Continue reading

Every day I pray for love

I was off work this week, but somehow found myself even more busy than usual. Being off work I had more time to watch the live streamed horrors in Gaza and Lebanon. I signed more petitions. I stepped up my boycott of companies profiting from Israel’s crimes. I sent money directly to a family in Khan Younis. Osama is 22, the oldest of 8 siblings, trying to keep his displaced family safe. His father needs medication, but with Israel’s military targeting hospitals and killing healthcare workers, leaving no functioning health service, very little is available. Almost no aid is entering Gaza. I can’t watch. I can’t not watch. I feel hollow.

Continue reading

Energy poverty can be lethal

In advance of the recent MPs vote to withdraw the Winter Fuel Allowance from many pensioners, I wrote for The Metro, on the health impacts of energy poverty. Below is the published article, also available on The Metro online.

For those of us working in the NHS, worries about winter start earlier every year. 

I’m a consultant who specialises in respiratory illnesses, and as the weather starts to get worse, I’m reminded of Jane, a patient in her 70s, living with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and numerous other health problems who was admitted twice in a matter of weeks last winter. 

She was so scared by her energy bills that she had rationed her heating to an hour a day in one room of her poorly insulated, draughty home. It wasn’t enough. The cold left her vulnerable to infection and fighting for every breath. She didn’t know how to ask for help or where to turn to, so she ended up where so many do: in an NHS bed on my ward. 

Continue reading

Healing wounds

My partner recently injured his hand on a faulty ladder. This took off an area of skin over a proximal finger joint resulting in a dramatic amount of bleeding and an inability to use the finger. Over the days and weeks since we have watched the healing process with fascination, noticing the stages of recovery of both form and function. Normal wound healing has four recognised stages: haemostasis, inflammation, proliferation, and remodelling. For a wound to heal successfully, the four phases must occur in the right sequence and time frame. Many factors can interfere with this process, risking impaired wound healing.

As we watched the re-epitheliation and remodelling of his physical wound it made me think about the unseen wounds many of us have suffered since the start of the pandemic, and the impaired wound healing we have been experiencing. So many people have been harmed not only by the virus itself but also by the lockdowns and the lack of a social safety net, eroded for decades by austerity. I see wounded people often in my work. They are incredibly adaptive and resilient but the body keeps the score, and many chronic diseases and distressing physical symptoms have their roots in emotional and social distress. I cannot speak for these people but I see them. I see their suffering and their strength.

Neither can I speak for all NHS staff, but is is well recognised that the pandemic traumatised healthcare workers. We experienced moral injury long before COVID-19, when we did not have the resources to provide the quality of care we wished to, were let down by a decimated social care system, or were forced to turn people in need away due to factors such as their immigration status. The pandemic brought us challenges that were all too familiar, but, more than that, it highlighted the pervasiveness, severity and proximity of this harm.

INDECISION
36” x 24” Acrylic paint on canvas, 2017. Cheyanne Silver.
From: www.luc.edu/features/stories/artsandculture/burnoutart/
Continue reading

Patients not passports

I spent this week scrolling through my news feed, watching war crimes committed by Russia in Ukraine. A hospital was just bombed. I sent more money to humanitarian organisations including Doctors of the World. Whilst it is easy to feel powerless in the face of terrible world events, there are ways we can stand in solidarity. And whilst our minds are focused on people fleeing conflict, it is a good time to consider how refugees are treated if they reach the UK and need healthcare. I was therefore pleased to be part of a panel this week, to launch the Southwark Patients not Passports campaign.

It included a screening of NHS Borderlands, an investigative documentary into the human cost of charging migrants for accessing the NHS, made by Bare Life Films. It features Angela who, after fleeing Zimbabwe in fear for her life, sought asylum in the UK where she has lived with her husband for 20 years. Following a vital hysterectomy operation Angela was – without warning – issued a bill for £8,000 by the NHS. Angela is not allowed to work and has no source of income and this bill jeopardizes her life in the UK forever. There are many stories like Angela’s, most untold and undocumented. This film shows how healthcare workers and campaigners are fighting alongside Angela to keep the border out of the NHS.

Continue reading

Mutual aid

A view across Greenland Dock, London in teh early morning when is is dark, looking across at a misty view of Canary Wharf.

Joy is elusive this month. I leave home early and return after a long day in darkness. My sleep is broken and unrefreshing. My dreams are invaded by oxygen flow meters, masks, monitors, and breathless patients. I am tired, but that word is inadequate to describe the omnipresent fatigue that seeps into every cell of my body through the day, and which sleep fails to banish.

 

But there is hope. There is always hope. And right now it’s name is mutual aid.

Continue reading

An Unexpected Death

Death is part of life in hospital. Indeed, half of all deaths in England occur in these hives of activity, where we help many to evade the end for a little longer  [1]. Death is such a frequent part of our work in fact, that it can become routine. Last week a man died before we got to see him on our morning ward round. He died some time between having his breakfast and the 9am observations round. He was old, had been unwell for a long time, and his death was expected, although no-one predicted it would be that morning. It caused hardly a ripple. Nurses, doctors and physiotherapists exchanged surprised glances, then shrugged and immediately focused their attention on their next tasks. His death became an admin task, as the junior doctors planned when they would find the time to complete his death certificate, discharge summary, and paperwork for our departmental morbidity and mortality meeting.

Continue reading

The professional is political

There is little hope in a recent piece on Respiratory Futures from Dr Phil Hammond. He paints a bleak picture of the NHS under the current Conservative government, and crystallises fears that many of us have that things will only get worse post-Brexit.

The NHS is more than a place we go to work: it is a community, a family. Attacks on our family feel personal and hurt deeply. What has disappointed me over the last few years is the lack of anger and action from our community. Doctors in particular seem to take pride in separating politics from professionalism. They refuse to speak up or get involved, maintaining a so called ‘neutral’ position.

Continue reading

The Future is Red

I spoke to Marie Claire magazine about my vote, and my response to the election result. You can read the full article, including three other women’s responses, here. Below is my section of the article.

Continue reading

Living loss

I got to know Joseph * over a number of months. He was first admitted to hospital in April, when his bed overlooked the garden with trees in bud. As Spring turned to Summer he was readmitted, and when Autumn came he watched the leaves change colour and fall. Each time he was admitted he spent more time in hospital and less time at home, and we worried more about whether this admission might be his last.

800px-Tree-bud-lexington-ky-park

Continue reading