I trained to be a nurse once....part II

Ahh 5 months later.

"So what the hell happened??" cried no-one ever. (I've come to terms with the fact my blog is basically an unseen diary).

I will bullet point for effective, snappy communication. But it may fizzle out once I get my rant on....

• I got myself signed off from AMU with the advice that I wasn't ready for such an acute setting as it was causing panic attacks (it turns out random air-choking has a name....)
• My university prepared me for the worst stating they would try to find a replacement placement (inception) but if not then I would have to leave.
• I received the fabulous news that after all their hard work (I should be grateful too) they found me another placement!! I went from AMU to ASU. They took me from the Acute Medical Unit, and re-placed me into the Acute Surgical Unit. I left the ACUTE Medical Unit due to ACUTE setting-induced panic attacks, and they placed me in the ACUTE Surgical Unit. Exactly one floor above the previous ward, with the exact same ACUTE patients. The ward was identical in layout too. I think it was at this point I went ACUTELY insane.
• I lasted 5 out of 6 weeks. My mentor wasn't too bad (absent for the majority of the time, I was tossed between all the nurses) but I did so well. I managed a patient all by myself in the Recovery unit after his observations all started going downhill. I arranged his medications, recorded his notes, called the doctors. Essentially, he was my first ever true patient. And nobody saw. Shame.
• Doesn't matter. I managed a few patients during my time there, overcame my anxieties and started to enjoy myself. It turns out AMU had such a bad reputation that most of the staff were surprised students were even allowed to go there. 

On the final day of my 5th week I had finally booked my flights and accommodation abroad, as I was to study in a different country for the first placement of my final year. I had even handed in the notice on my house. Things were definitely looking up for me, and I was looking forward to experiencing nursing abroad.

I went to placement as usual, and came across a patient in a side room with an auxiliary who required my help. The patient in question was on a commode and couldn't breathe well at all. I was very worried for her and insisted we get her on the bed immediately. We did so, and I went to find a sliding sheet to get her up the bed more and sit her up to assist her breathing. There wasn't one to be found on the ward anywhere (disgusting), and no-one was particularly interested. In the end I was rather stern with a couple of the nurses and insisted they come and help as this poor lady was suffering. They reluctantly came and helped me. After sorting her out on the bed and making her comfortable, the nurse I was with took her observations which were absolutely terrible. The poor love was struggling to breathe. She couldn't have been more than 60, which after you've worked in a health care environment, is actually a very young age.

In the treatment room shortly after, the nurse I had just been with came and informed me that the lady would be placed on the Liverpool Care Pathway. I asked what this was, but deep down I already knew. She said it was basically a pathway that made death as comfortable as possible. I asked to be excused, and she squeezed my arm when she saw the tears in my eyes.

I couldn't believe it. I was in shock - the woman's family weren't even there and a decision had been made to just let her die?? Of course they would be informed (I hoped) but how can the decision just be altered in the blink of an eye? Just like that, the assistance to help someone live is taken away. I don't even know who made the decision.

I went to the staff room and cried, and didn't stop. I couldn't breathe. It was simply all too much. What was the patient thinking? What would her family think? Does the patient even know? How can I nurse someone who is dying? What do you do or say? 

I knew my role was to offer the woman comfort, and help with her pain, and make sure all her needs were met, and comfort her family. But I simply couldn't. Up until this moment I had fought my anxieties, worries and fears. I familiarised myself with so much and I was doing so well, everyone said so, my mentor included.

I had my panic attack and left. The following week my mentor failed me for my entire placement. I was sad and upset that my patient was dying - so I was failed. The injustice of it all is being taken to a panel. The decision to fail me was made without my knowledge, and my university is appealing it. I had to scrape back a mere 10% of my flight costs back and quickly find somewhere else to live. I was jobless, without a university course, and homeless. It was a true slap in the face from the people who were supposed to lead, teach, encourage and support me.

But it doesn't matter any more. I've moved 94 miles away from that town (even over water) and I'm never putting on a nurses uniform again for as long as I live. Not even an auxiliary uniform. In my 5 years in the health care setting I somehow managed to avoid death and all its emotions and trappings. But what shocked and saddened me the most was the lack of support and interest I received. Don't get me wrong, there are some absolute angels out there who deserve to wear those uniforms. Sadly the majority do not. 

The entire feeling of working in the NHS is exhausting. You're not taught to help the patient because it's the right thing to do for them, or because it's kind, but because if you don't then you'll end up in court. We were encouraged to go to the NMC's website to see all the nurses who have had to stand trial because of drug errors or because they've said the wrong thing or they've done something 'wrong'. Of course the council is there to ensure safety and education, but I was taught to fear them and to watch my back at all times. This advice coming from experienced nurses.

I was ignored, exploited, anxious, frightened and belittled. I've read back over my previous posts and I feel like I've truly escaped the twisted, sinister system. 

Every now and then I close my eyes and imagine all those people I could have helped, and it breaks my heart. So I try to think of those people who I did help. 

Once on the first day on one of my placements I put cream on an elderly lady's dry legs. She cried actual tears and squeezed my hand, thanking me because in the two weeks she had been there, not one nurse had so much as spoken to her. 

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We are privileged to have a National Health Service. But it could be so much better. I was only a student nurse for a short time, but even I can see that change needs to be made. More nurses means more time, which means more patient contact and more CARING.