The point of the exercise…

I’ve recently left the ward environment, which was due to a number of reasons. However near the top of the list was the concern for my own wellbeing. There were constant incidents, and never enough staff to keep the patients (and ourselves) safe. Several staff were off sick due to the physical or mental effects of being attacked by patients, and I knew that I did not want to get to this stage. I am vocal when I feel changes need to be made, but I was starting to feel that the NHS was is such a dire state, there was no hope of saving it. It seems dramatic, I know, but it is how I felt. I took some time off for my mental health, and during this time decided that I did not want to compromise my health any longer. I was lucky to be seconded to a role which was not patient-facing. 

When a very senior member of staff started getting involved in the constant incidents that were happening on the wards, I felt such a relief.  I desperately want to change things for the staff on the wards, but it’s becoming clearer and clearer that I have no power to do anything. I reassured my peers that someone was getting involved who is passionate about making changes, and would come to the wards to speak to them. They were surprised, but seemed grateful (with a touch of cynicism) that someone was listening. 

I felt that I could just leave the situation alone, which is something I don’t often feel. However I had trust that staff would be encouraged to be honest about their experiences on the wards, and how they felt about their working life. The problems can be hard to hear, but it’s a necessary way of making positive change.

A couple of weeks down the line, I met up with my colleagues from the ward, and then the disappointment set in. Yes, the senior staff member had made herself available to staff and gone to the wards several times, including early in the morning to capture night staff. However, she had also been ‘chaperoned’ by the matron. The 1:1s turned out to not quite be what everyone was expecting and hoping for, and it was a hard knock for most staff. The point of the exercise was to get an honest view of the problems, and when the matron is intently listening to everything being said, people tend to hold back the strength of their feelings. The whole exercise suddenly becomes invalid in my eyes, and the recommendations that will come out of it will just not be reflective of the extent of the problem. 

I feel injustice very deeply, and I now feel a huge weight, that I thought had been lifted, dropped back down over me, and it’s suffocating. To have faith in someone and then to be let down is a huge blow, and one that I wasn’t expecting. I do trust easily, and I’m glad that I can do that. It means I’m used to running the risk of being disappointed, but when I’ve expressed my confidence in someone and then that person does not come through, I feel that I’ve lied to my colleagues and given them false hope.

Some days it feels like there are huge wounds all over the NHS. Some of them have been treated proficiently, maybe healed with a neat scar, maybe with no sign they existed. They might be easily reopened, but quickly noted and treated.  Some of these wounds, however, have been ‘treated’ with nothing more than a bandage, forgotten about and left to break down out of sight.  Everyone knows what they’ll find if they strip back the bandage, but equally that they either do not have the supplies, the competence or the motivation to deal with it.