It has been a while since I was last on here and am really surprised at the number of visits to the blog since I last posted. The reason for my silence is that I am a bit of a technophobe, lost my password, and did not know how to log back in! It has taken me over an hour to actually achieve that simple task this morning! lol
Over the last few months I have been doing a bit of work looking after and old gentleman who is a veteran of the Burma Campaign during WWII. I do a bit of shopping, cleaning, cook him fresh meals and am on hand while he has a bath so that he feels more secure that help is at hand should he have any difficulty while he gets in and out.
I am not telling you this out of some misguided pride, sanctity or martyrdom, it is because of a conversation that I had with a friend last weekend that really shocked me.
I am not really someone who is easily shocked. I am often repulsed by what I see around me, and hear of in the world in general, but genuine shock is quite rare. The shooting of Malala Yousufazi was one of those occasions. The death toll in Afganistan, Iraq, Egypt, Syria etc. But, these are actions and consequences far from my day to day existence, images and stories on the news bulletins and headlines in newspapers. They are distant and at arms length.
During a conversation, sat in my friends comfortable home in affluent West London, we were having a quiet drink and chat after my partner and I had hung a couple of antique mirrors for her. Her cats were being mischievous, her canaries flicking water at me. All was pleasant and relaxing.
We heard the front door open and close, and next thing we knew her boyfriends face was peering through the door. (He's a really nice bloke, and they are a lovely couple, friendly, intelligent and just generally really good company). He seemed a little distracted and in moments was gone, as he had to go to see his father.
It transpires that his father is in hospital somewhere outside of London, having fallen and broken his hip. (I am avoiding giving too many details, for the sake of confidentiality).
I am a massive supporter of the NHS and what it does, and what it stands for, and am appalled at this ConDem Government trying to dismantle it, however the conversation about his father that followed, left me speechless!
Because he is not able to walk, they will not discharge him as his bathroom at home is on the first floor, and he cannot access it, however, the nursing staff will not give him a bottle or bedpan to use in the hospital as they are short staffed. Hence, he has to soil his bed and then request that they change it, clean him, and change his clothes. To my mind, that is a longer process than supplying a bedpan and cleaning it, regardless of the issues around human dignity.
While still trying to comprehend the false logic and the situation of this poor man, she then dropped the bombshell that really shocked me.
On her boyfriends initial visit to the hospital, he asked for his father by name, with the reply from the nurse being, "Oh, you mean 'bed 5". If it was anyone else, I think that I would have been more appalled by the soiled bed, until it struck me that he is Jewish.
Lack of staffing is not an excuse for this. It takes as long to say Mr ..... as it takes to say "bed 5".
It is disgusting that anyone would be referred to by the number of the bed that they occupy, but to refer to a Jewish man of his generation (possibly anyone of Jewish Heritage) by a number, shocked me to the core! Have we learned nothing from the past about the dehumanisation of our species by becoming a number instead of a human being? (We are given casualty figures for civilians in numbers from Afghanistan and Iraq, armed forces are casualties of war to whom we are given name, age, rank, biography and photograph). If we see people by numbers, they cease to be human and just become the bed that they are occupying, or a statistic.
We have had scandals in the NHS recently, due to lack of care and targets being adhered to at the expense of the needs of patients. Perhaps if 'bed 5' was referred to as 'Mr or Mrs ...', giving a bedpan would be seen less as time consuming, and more a privilege of care and dignity for a fellow human being in need.
If a society is to be judged on its treatment of the very young, the elderly and those most vulnerable, is it possible that the first step that we need to cure the ills of the NHS is to give patients their right to the name on their birth certificates rather than refer to them by the number on the space that they occupy?
