Have a break, have a compound fracture

I want to write something nice and non-ranting. Then I remember I am a student nurse and that it would be a total fiction.

So, my latest rant is on the issue of falls, and just why the buggery fuck is there no safety measure to stop my ward getting so full that nearly all patients fall (they were dropping like flies the other day). Now, I know money is tight but that's the lamest excuse I have ever heard. All that means is that the NHS cannot be arsed to put in a bit of effort for patients as it means money, and I am sorry but that's what the NHS is supposed to do. So that's really saying that they cannot be bothered looking after patients which begs the question of what in the name of steam powered buggery they want to be doing instead.

The reason there are so many falls is that there are so many patients who at the moment have a high risk of falling. We have 4 staff nurses and 4 HCA's to oversee the 21 "at risk" patients. Common sense never was the NHS strong point but even my neighbours 5 year old will be able to tell you that without a reasonable nurse:patient ratio and a manageable caseload of patients who require supervision at all times there will be dire results. Well, I paraphrased there a bit. Which is why mental nurses petition for nurse patient ratio's is something that should be signed not just by nurses, but by all health professionals, and by every single person of voting age in the land, because until we do, people are going to suffer at the very hands of the system which should be helping them, and like the protagonist in one of Homers tragedies, nurses will only be able to helplessly look on as the disasters unfold with little they can do.

One can only submise here of course. I can still painfully recall what for me will always be the worse mistake of my time in the health filed which was in a call very close to home. Last year, in February my sister gave birth to her first baby, a little girl. I was working a second job back then where I used to work two days a week to supplement my nursing income which was OK as I came out with £1000 per month with the two combined. On the night after the birth, I visited the maternity ward of the same hospital where I now am on placement to see the new arrival. I noticed that initially the baby was very quiet, which is not unusual to see. What I did think odd was that the innate grip response was very very weak and this did register at the time. I then tickled the bottom of the foot, and worryingly this produced hardly any reaction. Now, at this point I was all geared up to yell for a midwife to have a look as something was wrong as while the baby was breathing she was very unresponsive. However, I took one look and my sister and mother and knew the bollocking this would entail and the sort of comments of "over keen" "your not on bloody duty you know" etc, so I kept quiet, but did ask when the next ward round was to be (it was 10am the next day). That should have been the biggest alarm bell. The next day she was seen but nothing done. The following day, the baby went "floppy" and was admitted to the neonatal unit. The original text I received described this as a chest infection and I was happy to go along with that. Back then there was a first aid duty to cover a football match tournament held on a Thursday and I used to get changed and go down to pub with friends after this. I did that without event, though when I returned near 11:30pm the hospital rang saying my sister was on the ward and could we come down as there was something wrong. I was told the information relating to the condition and given what was said that it seemed that there was something metabolic causing the problem. This was confirmed by the on call Neonatal SpR, and after several tests the devastating news was broke (that I felt after that first visit to the NICU), that there had been brain damage caused from the condition and while the baby was now ventilated, a christening was arranged for the hospital Chaplin to carry out in the incubator and a DNAR order was put out. It was to be 5 days later when after clinging to life for just 10 days, I was helpless to do anything but watch as after she was removed from the ventilator she clung on to life for 116 minutes before passing away. I was then faced with the heartbreaking task of informing the staff nurse that she had died, and trying to hold it together while the devastating fall out of the death was dealt with by the immediate family in the moments of the passing. This was done, it was one of those moments when I was relying on all my training to try and help. Nothing has ever been so hard as that day. There were to be several weeks before the official cause of death of Non-Keotic Hyperglyceneia was announced. I was more then happy to have turned my back on my training as a nurse that day, and for 3 weeks could not face going into the university. There was a research essay to be done but after my 10 day old niece died from an incurable condition I was in no mentally fit state to write a load of essay on research (this was the essay which caused me to be withdrawn... the whole even was very vivid and was the major reason I referred). I am convinced that had the staff been there this would have been picked up sooner. The ending is the same I guess, but its the point though!

While there is not much that can be done, that is half the reason a post on the days work is prefixed "My..." Partly as this matched the "scrubs" naming, but also because I wrote "Sleep well, My little angel in heaven" on a bouquet of flowers on her little grave. AS she was nearly the reason I left nursing, it my silent nod to her.

Its just a shame that things seem to be like this.
Its a malaise that is affecting the entire county. I don't drive as I am priced off the road. I want a small bike or other similar mode of transport but dare not actually get anything on finance until I have a job so have to use public transport. Which around here is crap. No wonder people moan about the NHS. It seems that underneath the surface, everything is half cocked.