Cherry Tree Hospital, Stockport
Every morning I come in – and I’m the first person the patients see. I try to make sure it’s a friendly start. I’d hate to be woken with someone giving orders: “Wake up! Get showered!” People are poorly, frail, elderly, sometimes they’re forgetful, sometimes they’re not good at speaking… I always say: “I’ll give you 5-10 minutes to wake yourself.” It makes all the difference, a big smile, the expression on a face.
I ask them how they’re doing and I also check with the other staff to see how the patient is. Certain patients never get a good night’s sleep, they only sleep well in their own room. Here they’re out of their house, out of their routine, it’s totally alien.
Whatever help I give to patients, I ask myself first, “Would I like this situation?” I put myself in their shoes, it’s commonsense. People here are frail and you’ve got to support them all the time, keep asking them if they’re OK. My last shift was 12 hours and it was difficult, it drains you, all the little things. But you’ve got to give everyone the same care, it’s what they deserve. I think of my mum and dad and I hope they’d get good care. I hope someone looks after me when I’m in that situation.
From a patient’s point-of-view, hospital can be very frustrating. They’re hanging on for someone to take them to the toilet, for instance. It’s humbling. They might get in a mood and it can last all day. To change from independence to asking permission is confusing for people. Yes, some independence is lost, but we’re actually trying to help. Some folks look at us as if we’re the enemy and I have to reassure them WE ARE HERE FOR YOU.
Who copes best? Patients who have visitors seem better; they have something to talk about. Those who don’t get visits – well, it must feel heart-breaking, it’s going to play on the mind. A man here, he gets irate seeing others having visits. It’s doubly isolating because he won’t speak about it to us. If I’ve got a spare 10 minutes, I take people outside into the hospital gardens.
At the end of the day, it’s good to see them tucked up and safe. You can tell they’re happy and content. I can go home without worrying about them, knowing I’ve done a good job. Then if the patient’s better and they get back their own lives – all that effort and patience was worth it in the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment