![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
strypeyI want to thank all the tireless health workers who helped me last night. Starting with the Healthline operator who I would have spoken to about whether I needed an ambulance, if they had funding for enough staff and the wait time wasn't estimated as half an hour. At that point I wasn't convinced I had half an hour left. Also the 111 operator who I called instead, who calmly talked me through what had happened, dispatched an ambulance, and told me what I need to do - if I could - to prepare for their arrival.
I want to thank the ambos who found their way to me. Despite the odd, upstairs entryway to our flat and the outside light not working, as well as the fact I hadn't managed to make it to the door yet to unlock it. Who explained everything they were doing as they did it, and answered my curious questions, as they checked my heart, drove me to the hospital, waited for half an hour or so to unload me, and pushed me in a wheelchair up to A+E.
I want to thank the A+E staff. The triage nurse who took my details from one of the ambos and sent us through to the waiting room. The receptionist who checked my details, then after I'd waited for almost three hours, listened patiently to my rant about why I couldn't keep waiting there and needed to go home and sleep. The nurse who heard the same rant, and had the awkward conversation with me about how it was my right to leave, but medically her advice had to be keep waiting, and she couldn't say for how long.
I'd also like to thank the security guard who pushed me down to the front entrance in a wheelchair and called a taxi for me. I guess there's no funding to pay wages for orderlies anymore? It would have been better if he hadn't left me sitting outside the front entrance in the winter cold, at 3am, waiting for a taxi that took about 15 minutes to arrive. But wheeling patients around is not a security job (unless we're having a meltdown I guess) and contracted security guards aren't trained to consider these things, if they're given any training at all.
Finally, I'd like to thank the taxi driver who drove me home. I've always found it weird that one can arrive at the hospital in an ambulance, potentially in fear for your your life, then end up organising your own ride home when you leave. It's likely many people on low incomes decide to stay at home, or drive themselves to the hospital - against the ambos' advice that it might be unsafe - because they can't afford a taxi ride, and they don't have anyone they can ask to pick them up.
Anyway, the taxi driver was calm, friendly and good-humoured. Chatting away to me, despite the late hour, and the fact that he'd only had about three fares in an eight hour shift (thanks Uber, I hate it). Talking to someone who didn't seem stressed, in a comfortable, quiet, low-light situation, was just what I needed to start winding down after the whole ordeal.
As an autistic person with ADHD, sitting in a bright, noisy, crowded waiting room, with uncomfortably low backed seats, is an overwhelming and highly unpleasant sensory experience. Especially for hours at a time. Doing it while suffering from a migraine style headache, caused by some kind of illness I've had for a few days, on top of the chest pain that led to my trip to hospital, was psychological torture. Especially after midnight, when I desperately wanted to sleep.
Because I'd been using my Android all day, and I couldn't see anywhere to plug it in, it was nearly flat. So I didn't want to distract myself with a podcast in case it died just when I urgently needed to contact someone. All I could do was try to reduce the sensory input, by putting my noise cancelling headphones on and pulling my beanie down over my eyes. As the hours passed, more people got seen, and more seats became available, I end up trying to partially lay down. As I said to both the receptionist and the nurse, after more than an hour or two of that, I'd rather die in the comfort of my bed than keep waiting for what could be five minutes or five hours.
I'm happy to report that I didn't die in my sleep, not yet anyway. I've had about 9 hours sleep, and now I'm in bed with a hot water bottle, my medical cannabis vape, and water by my bed if I need it. I've had a coffee and I've got food. I still feel like I've been hit by a truck, and I probably still need medical attention. But I'd rather make an appointment and wait for it here than go back to A+E, even now that I'm not exhausted and scared.
Despite my distressed and sleep-deprived condition, I did my best to praise the staff for their service at every stage of the process. I told a number of them that they were all doing great work, that they're underpaid, and underfunded, and that the shitty conditions this government is forcing them to work under is a crime. I wanted them to know that I understand the real cause of the shitty experience I was having. Not. Their. Fault.
I dare any corporatist pod person who thinks the problem with our public health system is lack of "efficiency" or "productivity" to go up to A+E - in any hospital in the country - and find a single person who isn't working their tail off. Often working double shifts due to lack of staff. If there was anything those people could do to move us through faster, they would be doing it. They work jobs that are insanely difficult and stressful even under ideal conditions, because they *care*. It must break their hearts to be so overloaded and unable to give patients the care we really need.
When someone is taken into hospital by an ambulance, to be kept in overnight for observation, they're at some serious risk and probably not having a good time. In a country as wealthy as Aotearoa, it's not acceptable for them to be left in a waiting room for hours. There ought to be a bed available where they can rest while waiting to be seen, and they ought to be able to see a doctor in a timely fashion.
To do that, we need to properly resource our public health system. We need to hire more people. Not only medical staff, but support workers who can make sure we're not wasting the time of highly skilled doctors and nurses on administrivia. We need to pay them all better too. As I said to the taxi driver, there's something profoundly wrong with a society where you can make more money building weapons than saving people's lives.
More importantly, we need to give medical staff more say in how their workplaces are run. It's amazing how many people will work for less money if the conditions are better, and I'd say that goes double for people in caring professions. This would benefit the public too. Because if doctors, nurses and ambos had final sign-off on the design of public health services, instead of bean counters and managerialists, maybe those services would actually work properly? Imagine if staff in hospitals chose their managers, rather than vice-versa?
We can have universal public services that functions properly. I know, because when I was a child, we still did. It took the corporatist governments of Roger Douglas (Labour, late 1980s) and Ruth Richardson (National, 1990s) almost 20 years to mostly dismantle them, leaving us with the struggling remnants we have now. The question is, how are we going to get them back?
I want to thank the ambos who found their way to me. Despite the odd, upstairs entryway to our flat and the outside light not working, as well as the fact I hadn't managed to make it to the door yet to unlock it. Who explained everything they were doing as they did it, and answered my curious questions, as they checked my heart, drove me to the hospital, waited for half an hour or so to unload me, and pushed me in a wheelchair up to A+E.
I want to thank the A+E staff. The triage nurse who took my details from one of the ambos and sent us through to the waiting room. The receptionist who checked my details, then after I'd waited for almost three hours, listened patiently to my rant about why I couldn't keep waiting there and needed to go home and sleep. The nurse who heard the same rant, and had the awkward conversation with me about how it was my right to leave, but medically her advice had to be keep waiting, and she couldn't say for how long.
I'd also like to thank the security guard who pushed me down to the front entrance in a wheelchair and called a taxi for me. I guess there's no funding to pay wages for orderlies anymore? It would have been better if he hadn't left me sitting outside the front entrance in the winter cold, at 3am, waiting for a taxi that took about 15 minutes to arrive. But wheeling patients around is not a security job (unless we're having a meltdown I guess) and contracted security guards aren't trained to consider these things, if they're given any training at all.
Finally, I'd like to thank the taxi driver who drove me home. I've always found it weird that one can arrive at the hospital in an ambulance, potentially in fear for your your life, then end up organising your own ride home when you leave. It's likely many people on low incomes decide to stay at home, or drive themselves to the hospital - against the ambos' advice that it might be unsafe - because they can't afford a taxi ride, and they don't have anyone they can ask to pick them up.
Anyway, the taxi driver was calm, friendly and good-humoured. Chatting away to me, despite the late hour, and the fact that he'd only had about three fares in an eight hour shift (thanks Uber, I hate it). Talking to someone who didn't seem stressed, in a comfortable, quiet, low-light situation, was just what I needed to start winding down after the whole ordeal.
As an autistic person with ADHD, sitting in a bright, noisy, crowded waiting room, with uncomfortably low backed seats, is an overwhelming and highly unpleasant sensory experience. Especially for hours at a time. Doing it while suffering from a migraine style headache, caused by some kind of illness I've had for a few days, on top of the chest pain that led to my trip to hospital, was psychological torture. Especially after midnight, when I desperately wanted to sleep.
Because I'd been using my Android all day, and I couldn't see anywhere to plug it in, it was nearly flat. So I didn't want to distract myself with a podcast in case it died just when I urgently needed to contact someone. All I could do was try to reduce the sensory input, by putting my noise cancelling headphones on and pulling my beanie down over my eyes. As the hours passed, more people got seen, and more seats became available, I end up trying to partially lay down. As I said to both the receptionist and the nurse, after more than an hour or two of that, I'd rather die in the comfort of my bed than keep waiting for what could be five minutes or five hours.
I'm happy to report that I didn't die in my sleep, not yet anyway. I've had about 9 hours sleep, and now I'm in bed with a hot water bottle, my medical cannabis vape, and water by my bed if I need it. I've had a coffee and I've got food. I still feel like I've been hit by a truck, and I probably still need medical attention. But I'd rather make an appointment and wait for it here than go back to A+E, even now that I'm not exhausted and scared.
Despite my distressed and sleep-deprived condition, I did my best to praise the staff for their service at every stage of the process. I told a number of them that they were all doing great work, that they're underpaid, and underfunded, and that the shitty conditions this government is forcing them to work under is a crime. I wanted them to know that I understand the real cause of the shitty experience I was having. Not. Their. Fault.
I dare any corporatist pod person who thinks the problem with our public health system is lack of "efficiency" or "productivity" to go up to A+E - in any hospital in the country - and find a single person who isn't working their tail off. Often working double shifts due to lack of staff. If there was anything those people could do to move us through faster, they would be doing it. They work jobs that are insanely difficult and stressful even under ideal conditions, because they *care*. It must break their hearts to be so overloaded and unable to give patients the care we really need.
When someone is taken into hospital by an ambulance, to be kept in overnight for observation, they're at some serious risk and probably not having a good time. In a country as wealthy as Aotearoa, it's not acceptable for them to be left in a waiting room for hours. There ought to be a bed available where they can rest while waiting to be seen, and they ought to be able to see a doctor in a timely fashion.
To do that, we need to properly resource our public health system. We need to hire more people. Not only medical staff, but support workers who can make sure we're not wasting the time of highly skilled doctors and nurses on administrivia. We need to pay them all better too. As I said to the taxi driver, there's something profoundly wrong with a society where you can make more money building weapons than saving people's lives.
More importantly, we need to give medical staff more say in how their workplaces are run. It's amazing how many people will work for less money if the conditions are better, and I'd say that goes double for people in caring professions. This would benefit the public too. Because if doctors, nurses and ambos had final sign-off on the design of public health services, instead of bean counters and managerialists, maybe those services would actually work properly? Imagine if staff in hospitals chose their managers, rather than vice-versa?
We can have universal public services that functions properly. I know, because when I was a child, we still did. It took the corporatist governments of Roger Douglas (Labour, late 1980s) and Ruth Richardson (National, 1990s) almost 20 years to mostly dismantle them, leaving us with the struggling remnants we have now. The question is, how are we going to get them back?
