This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/jul/19/husbands-stroke-showed-best-worst-nhs

The article has changed 5 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 2 Version 3
My husband's stroke showed me the best and worst of the NHS My husband's stroke showed me the best and worst of the NHS
(7 days later)
In March 2012, my husband had a stroke. He was 34. I recognised the signs within seconds, called 999 and had a hospital bag ready by the time the ambulance arrived four minutes later. Sam’s speech was slurred and he had lost 50% of his vision. In A&E, I held the sick bowl as he vomited again and again. As he was rushed off for a scan, I was in complete shock. In true English fashion I went to get a cup of tea. But the restaurant was closed and the vending machine broken; it was then that I cried.Three hours and 45 minutes after admission, the doctors arrived with their clipboards at Sam’s bed. There was a tense discussion and Sam was wheeled away to a general ward. This was essentially an inadequately staffed “holding” ward, and it was not in his best interests to be there. Three days later, Sam was still in hospital, did not have a named consultant, was still waiting for a CT scan, and was being woken every two hours for observations he didn’t need. The board above his bed still showed the name of its previous occupant, a 78-year-old man who was “nil by mouth” – which meant Sam had not been fed. A healthcare worker insisted on switching on a flickering light above his bed that gave him a headache so unbearable he resorted to wearing sunglasses. Then I overheard two doctors mocking him for “milking his migraine”.In March 2012, my husband had a stroke. He was 34. I recognised the signs within seconds, called 999 and had a hospital bag ready by the time the ambulance arrived four minutes later. Sam’s speech was slurred and he had lost 50% of his vision. In A&E, I held the sick bowl as he vomited again and again. As he was rushed off for a scan, I was in complete shock. In true English fashion I went to get a cup of tea. But the restaurant was closed and the vending machine broken; it was then that I cried.Three hours and 45 minutes after admission, the doctors arrived with their clipboards at Sam’s bed. There was a tense discussion and Sam was wheeled away to a general ward. This was essentially an inadequately staffed “holding” ward, and it was not in his best interests to be there. Three days later, Sam was still in hospital, did not have a named consultant, was still waiting for a CT scan, and was being woken every two hours for observations he didn’t need. The board above his bed still showed the name of its previous occupant, a 78-year-old man who was “nil by mouth” – which meant Sam had not been fed. A healthcare worker insisted on switching on a flickering light above his bed that gave him a headache so unbearable he resorted to wearing sunglasses. Then I overheard two doctors mocking him for “milking his migraine”.
My father received poor treatment for Parkinson's. Here's what I did | Neil Archibald
Enough was enough. I knew that Sam had had a stroke – thanks to the ACT Fast campaign – and he needed a proper diagnosis and treatment plan. I discharged him, took him home for a full night’s sleep and self-referred him to a specialist stroke unit in another hospital. This was less than 15 miles away from the first hospital, but the treatment was a world apart.Enough was enough. I knew that Sam had had a stroke – thanks to the ACT Fast campaign – and he needed a proper diagnosis and treatment plan. I discharged him, took him home for a full night’s sleep and self-referred him to a specialist stroke unit in another hospital. This was less than 15 miles away from the first hospital, but the treatment was a world apart.
Within 10 minutes of arrival, we were met by the consultant in charge. As soon as she walked on to the ward, her team, organised and efficient, updated her. She had my confidence from the outset. She explained that Sam had had a stroke and outlined his management. Then she asked a simple question: “Is there anything else either of you would like to ask me?” For the first time in days, someone had given us the chance to ask a question. That night, I reflected on my own consultation style. Had I unwittingly hurried my own patients in an attempt to reach the end of a busy clinic? Did I make it easy for parents and patients to ask questions? Since that day, I have finished every consultation with a similar question.The consultant and her team left the room and a healthcare assistant came in to offer me a cup of tea. I cried. For the first time in days, someone had thought of me and not just my husband. That might sound selfish, but the impact on families is huge. I remember that moment now when I comfort parents who have just seen their child put to sleep on the operating table.Within 10 minutes of arrival, we were met by the consultant in charge. As soon as she walked on to the ward, her team, organised and efficient, updated her. She had my confidence from the outset. She explained that Sam had had a stroke and outlined his management. Then she asked a simple question: “Is there anything else either of you would like to ask me?” For the first time in days, someone had given us the chance to ask a question. That night, I reflected on my own consultation style. Had I unwittingly hurried my own patients in an attempt to reach the end of a busy clinic? Did I make it easy for parents and patients to ask questions? Since that day, I have finished every consultation with a similar question.The consultant and her team left the room and a healthcare assistant came in to offer me a cup of tea. I cried. For the first time in days, someone had thought of me and not just my husband. That might sound selfish, but the impact on families is huge. I remember that moment now when I comfort parents who have just seen their child put to sleep on the operating table.
Sign up for the Society Weekly email newsletter
And so the days passed and we fell into our new routine of scans and tests. I watched as one registrar worked ridiculously long days to advance Sam’s care.And so the days passed and we fell into our new routine of scans and tests. I watched as one registrar worked ridiculously long days to advance Sam’s care.
Despite our previous negative experiences we found a renewed confidence and pride in the NHS. Nurses were kind, thoughtful and working as part of a team that obviously cared. I look back on this time and think we were lucky. Sam has made a near full recovery and I was forced to stop and think about my priorities. I used to work away four nights a week but have changed my job plan to work flexibly. I hope that I have become a better consultant. I have changed my style; I think I am more empathetic and I am certainly more flexible. Some think that our home lives should not impact on our work, but I disagree. This was a pivotal moment in my career and for that I am thankful. More than ever I realise that, as healthcare professionals, we don’t know everything. It is important to hear the patient’s voice.Despite our previous negative experiences we found a renewed confidence and pride in the NHS. Nurses were kind, thoughtful and working as part of a team that obviously cared. I look back on this time and think we were lucky. Sam has made a near full recovery and I was forced to stop and think about my priorities. I used to work away four nights a week but have changed my job plan to work flexibly. I hope that I have become a better consultant. I have changed my style; I think I am more empathetic and I am certainly more flexible. Some think that our home lives should not impact on our work, but I disagree. This was a pivotal moment in my career and for that I am thankful. More than ever I realise that, as healthcare professionals, we don’t know everything. It is important to hear the patient’s voice.
Claire Stevens is a consultant in paediatric dentistry in ManchesterClaire Stevens is a consultant in paediatric dentistry in Manchester
If you would like to contribute to our Blood, sweat and tears series about memorable experiences in healthcare, read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing sarah.johnson@theguardian.comIf you would like to contribute to our Blood, sweat and tears series about memorable experiences in healthcare, read our guidelines and get in touch by emailing sarah.johnson@theguardian.com
NHSNHS
Blood, sweat and tearsBlood, sweat and tears
HealthHealth
StrokeStroke
DoctorsDoctors
HospitalsHospitals
FamilyFamily
MarriageMarriage
commentcomment
Share on FacebookShare on Facebook
Share on TwitterShare on Twitter
Share via EmailShare via Email
Share on LinkedInShare on LinkedIn
Share on PinterestShare on Pinterest
Share on Google+Share on Google+
Share on WhatsAppShare on WhatsApp
Share on MessengerShare on Messenger
Reuse this contentReuse this content