Having already got slightly lost finding the ward, I pushed open the door. A nurse in a royal blue uniform looks my way, looking slightly surprised to see me. The letter said to arrive at 7 30am, I look at my phone and see it is 7 27am. 'Yes?' the nurse says, staring at me quizzically. 'Erm, I'm sorry, I'm due to be here for my operation today, the letter says to report here at 7 30' I wonder to myself why I'm apologising to her. More of that later.
I had already noted a sign on the door saying that patients are prohibited from being accompanied, unless there is a 'Social or caring reason why you need someone with you'. I think to myself its a good job I don't feel terrified or confused at this point - If I did I would have felt worse after reading that. Of the many signs I have come across in the NHS in the fifteen years I have worked in the organisation, this is one of the more memorable.
The nurse looks the other way at a dimly lit semi circle of chairs and says 'Sit over there'. Seemingly almost as an afterthought she asks, 'Name?', I tell her, and I obediently go and sit down. The nurse does not introduce herself, ask me if I am okay, or offer any other opportunity to interact with her. I'm already aware of a feeling that whether I am okay or not is really unimportant.
A few minutes later, other people, quite a few with nervous faces file through the door. A ward clerk greets every arrival with a 'Clean your hands with the gel please'. I notice a young girl, with a woman who I assume is her mum. She is tearful ' You have to leave now' says the ward clerk to the woman. She turns to the girl ' You will be fine'. I sit there, imagining I would feel anything but fine if I were that girl. Royal blue nurse ushers her along, the girl is still crying.
There is a sign at the desk promoting the hospitals version of 'This is me' for a person with dementia. It doesn't say where to get one or who to ask about it. I wonder about having a sign on the front door of the ward, alerting family carers to this information. Hang on, I' m not at work now am I! You can take the dementia nurse out of the hospital and all that......
There is a sign at the desk promoting the hospitals version of 'This is me' for a person with dementia. It doesn't say where to get one or who to ask about it. I wonder about having a sign on the front door of the ward, alerting family carers to this information. Hang on, I' m not at work now am I! You can take the dementia nurse out of the hospital and all that......
An older gentleman asks where he might be on the list because he is diabetic and is worried about his blood sugar levels. The nurse asks him if he took his insulin. He says no and she says 'Well that's fine for you to wait then'. I asked later in the day about operation list orders that patients with diabetes are usually prioritized. Why could he not be reassured of this I wonder? A health care assistant hands him a gown and tells him to change. I notice that he looks very forlorn before the curtains are pulled around his cubicle.
I sit for 90 minutes, I've come prepared, I watch a documentary I had downloaded onto my tablet to distract myself. A man comes over and introduces himself, and shakes my hand warmly. He is the Anaesthetist. He smiles, explains fully what is going to happen. He says I am last on the list and jokes that someone has to be! I don't mind that, but I would have possibly liked to have been told already - 90 minutes is a long time to sit in a hospital ward before ANYONE comes to talk to you!! He tells me as I'm last on the list I can have a cup of tea. 45 minutes later the tea comes - I had asked if I could make it myself at the drinks station but was told curtly that there was 'no need'. I'm called into another cubicle space to see the surgeon - She is nice, very nice. She introduces herself, explains everything very well and reassures me it will all be fine - She seemed to sense the worry I was trying to hide!
I return to my seat in the waiting area and think to myself that the doctors seem much warmer and kinder than their nursing colleagues. I immediately feel slightly ashamed that I'm even having such a thought, I am a nurse after all, I feel slightly treacherous towards my profession, but annoyed at the same time! What is it that is making the nurses seem unable to share just a little kindness! Not one nurse has introduced themselves!
Many of you will know about #hellomynameis, founded by Doctor Kate Granger - I think about her as I sit there, and the campaign she spear-headed for health professionals to start an interaction by simply introducing themselves. It really does make so much difference. I also for possibly the first time if I'm honest, feel the power of the very simple message of hellomynameis, and how if it doesn't happen, the relationship between professional and patient is already flawed. Dr Granger. I realise that I am really not enjoying being on this side of the fence, being a 'patient', because I feel so dis-empowered, I feel I am not important to the nurses who are looking after me - I want to be important to them. Is it wrong to think that?
What Dr Granger has done, by so generously sharing her own experiences, is that she offers us a chance to learn how simple things can help us make our patient's feel that they are important. EVERY single health professional or health care worker should take heed of this.
Another hour goes by, I feel a bit worried now - I know I'm only having 3 teeth removed, but this will be painful, and I'm worried about the bruising on my face. I remember last time I had an anaesthetic, and how sick it made me. My imagination is going into overdrive now, I feel a bit panicky. I tell myself I'm being silly. My mind also crosses back to work - How on earth do people with dementia cope with hospital environments when I'm feeling like this? I make a mental note that this is something really important for me to remember.
I'm called in to a cubicle by the health care assistant. She introduces herself and tells me to wait 'a bit longer for my checks'. Opposite me in another cubicle, an elderly lady is being prepped for her operation. A nurse asks her 'When did you last have a drink?' The elderly lady isn't sure, she says maybe 10pm last night. The nurse asks her to take her jewellery. The lady starts to cry and says she feels 'naked'. The nurse says 'I'm sorry' in an attempt to comfort her. I want go and comfort this lady, or go and reassure her. I don't. I feel like I daren't move from my little cubicle. Why do I feel like that? I realise that even in this short time I have absorbed myself into the 'sick role' - I can't go anywhere unless I'm told to. I start to think about how dehumanised I feel already. I know that's a strong word to use, but it is the word that came to me as I sat there waiting.
The lady then says that at least she got her cup of tea this morning. The nurse's tone changes and she says 'You told me you last drank at 10pm, now it's this morning - Which is it? I will ask you again, when did you last drink?' She sounds irritated. The lady pauses, says 'Did I have tea this morning? I don't know, no...I was so worried about today'. She sounds tearful. 'Right, well lets go with this morning shall we, as you are not sure' the nurse says, more gently, but I can't help but feel myself bristling and feeling a sense of discomfort at the interaction I have just listened to.
My turn to be prepped next. Its the same nurse who prepped the lady opposite me. She tells me her name after I ask her. I say I'm feeling a bit fed up, I don't know why I'm telling her. She says that 'Someone has to be last and I'm afraid its you today'. I know that - I don't know why she is saying this. I think what would have helped was a few short conversations with the nursing staff - to be kept up to date, to know who they were!!! As a patient we share so much of ourselves with the people caring for us - the very least we can do as health professionals is share who we are!!! Maybe then I would have felt able to ask for other information - If you know a person's name it can help you feel more able to approach them!! Dr Granger's message is absolutely correct in every sense.
I walk into the operating room, by which time I am in floods of tears. The surgeon actually sits and holds my hand and reassures me!!! I don't know why I was in floods of tears, perhaps it was the whole morning of feeling mostly like I didn't really matter. Every single patient matters - That's why as a dementia nurse I am so vocal about person centered care - because that is how you help a person to feel as though they matter.
As I came around, I was looked after by a lovely nurse, who asked me gently what pain relief I needed, and explained what was happening. A senior nurse (a matron I think) came to speak to me - She was very kind, though I can't remember too much of that conversation thanks to oromorph!!
There were pockets of kindness throughout my experience as a 'patient' for a day. Those people who showed that kindness were the ones who know it matters to say 'hello my names is'....the rest flowed from there. The difficulty for me is that the moments of kindness felt not the norm but the exception. Being a senior nurse in the NHS, I'm not naive, I know the challenges that face us and the pressures we work under. I also know that these challenges and pressures do not need to be barriers to our responsibility and indeed our desire to show people we look after the kindness they deserve. Asking a person if they are okay, telling them who you are, thinking about the distress a person might be feeling - these are all things we CAN DO. These are the things that will make a difference.
References:
#hellomynameis: http://hellomynameis.org.uk/
'This is me': http://alzheimers.org.uk/thisisme
I return to my seat in the waiting area and think to myself that the doctors seem much warmer and kinder than their nursing colleagues. I immediately feel slightly ashamed that I'm even having such a thought, I am a nurse after all, I feel slightly treacherous towards my profession, but annoyed at the same time! What is it that is making the nurses seem unable to share just a little kindness! Not one nurse has introduced themselves!
Many of you will know about #hellomynameis, founded by Doctor Kate Granger - I think about her as I sit there, and the campaign she spear-headed for health professionals to start an interaction by simply introducing themselves. It really does make so much difference. I also for possibly the first time if I'm honest, feel the power of the very simple message of hellomynameis, and how if it doesn't happen, the relationship between professional and patient is already flawed. Dr Granger. I realise that I am really not enjoying being on this side of the fence, being a 'patient', because I feel so dis-empowered, I feel I am not important to the nurses who are looking after me - I want to be important to them. Is it wrong to think that?
What Dr Granger has done, by so generously sharing her own experiences, is that she offers us a chance to learn how simple things can help us make our patient's feel that they are important. EVERY single health professional or health care worker should take heed of this.
Another hour goes by, I feel a bit worried now - I know I'm only having 3 teeth removed, but this will be painful, and I'm worried about the bruising on my face. I remember last time I had an anaesthetic, and how sick it made me. My imagination is going into overdrive now, I feel a bit panicky. I tell myself I'm being silly. My mind also crosses back to work - How on earth do people with dementia cope with hospital environments when I'm feeling like this? I make a mental note that this is something really important for me to remember.
I'm called in to a cubicle by the health care assistant. She introduces herself and tells me to wait 'a bit longer for my checks'. Opposite me in another cubicle, an elderly lady is being prepped for her operation. A nurse asks her 'When did you last have a drink?' The elderly lady isn't sure, she says maybe 10pm last night. The nurse asks her to take her jewellery. The lady starts to cry and says she feels 'naked'. The nurse says 'I'm sorry' in an attempt to comfort her. I want go and comfort this lady, or go and reassure her. I don't. I feel like I daren't move from my little cubicle. Why do I feel like that? I realise that even in this short time I have absorbed myself into the 'sick role' - I can't go anywhere unless I'm told to. I start to think about how dehumanised I feel already. I know that's a strong word to use, but it is the word that came to me as I sat there waiting.
The lady then says that at least she got her cup of tea this morning. The nurse's tone changes and she says 'You told me you last drank at 10pm, now it's this morning - Which is it? I will ask you again, when did you last drink?' She sounds irritated. The lady pauses, says 'Did I have tea this morning? I don't know, no...I was so worried about today'. She sounds tearful. 'Right, well lets go with this morning shall we, as you are not sure' the nurse says, more gently, but I can't help but feel myself bristling and feeling a sense of discomfort at the interaction I have just listened to.
My turn to be prepped next. Its the same nurse who prepped the lady opposite me. She tells me her name after I ask her. I say I'm feeling a bit fed up, I don't know why I'm telling her. She says that 'Someone has to be last and I'm afraid its you today'. I know that - I don't know why she is saying this. I think what would have helped was a few short conversations with the nursing staff - to be kept up to date, to know who they were!!! As a patient we share so much of ourselves with the people caring for us - the very least we can do as health professionals is share who we are!!! Maybe then I would have felt able to ask for other information - If you know a person's name it can help you feel more able to approach them!! Dr Granger's message is absolutely correct in every sense.
I walk into the operating room, by which time I am in floods of tears. The surgeon actually sits and holds my hand and reassures me!!! I don't know why I was in floods of tears, perhaps it was the whole morning of feeling mostly like I didn't really matter. Every single patient matters - That's why as a dementia nurse I am so vocal about person centered care - because that is how you help a person to feel as though they matter.
As I came around, I was looked after by a lovely nurse, who asked me gently what pain relief I needed, and explained what was happening. A senior nurse (a matron I think) came to speak to me - She was very kind, though I can't remember too much of that conversation thanks to oromorph!!
There were pockets of kindness throughout my experience as a 'patient' for a day. Those people who showed that kindness were the ones who know it matters to say 'hello my names is'....the rest flowed from there. The difficulty for me is that the moments of kindness felt not the norm but the exception. Being a senior nurse in the NHS, I'm not naive, I know the challenges that face us and the pressures we work under. I also know that these challenges and pressures do not need to be barriers to our responsibility and indeed our desire to show people we look after the kindness they deserve. Asking a person if they are okay, telling them who you are, thinking about the distress a person might be feeling - these are all things we CAN DO. These are the things that will make a difference.
References:
#hellomynameis: http://hellomynameis.org.uk/
'This is me': http://alzheimers.org.uk/thisisme
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