I nearly died because the hospital was so short of staff

The only reason I survived is because as a doctor I knew I was bleeding to death. Now a haemorrhage of staff is killing the NHS

Until a few years ago I was a doctor who believed that while flawed, if you were seriously ill the NHS would pick you up, whisk you away and provide you with everything you needed – competently and safely. That changed in 2012, when I began bleeding slowly after a planned caesarean section.

My new daughter and I were admitted to a ward that was understaffed. I didn’t have any observations when I arrived. Nor did I have any observations four hours later, when they should have been taken again. Six hours after my arrival on the ward, my observations were finally taken by a healthcare assistant. They were abnormal – my heart rate and blood pressure were at dangerous levels – but the healthcare assistant didn’t have the training to know that. She was acting up: filling a role because staffing was so short. She also didn’t have time to document each patient’s observations on the routine charts. She was hurriedly writing them onto a notepad with the intention of transferring these notes to the proper charts later on. She told me everything was fine.

My faith in the NHS was so unshakeable I reassured myself that if I needed attention, I would get it. I didn’t want to be a nuisance or tell anyone how to do their job. I was drowsy by then, finding it difficult to stay awake for more than a few minutes. My thinking was murky. I let myself drift, with the memory of the healthcare assistant’s reassurance. 
An hour later, I awoke. The pain I had attributed as normal given the nature of my operation was now severe. I was finding it difficult to breathe. I took my pulse at my wrist but I couldn’t feel it. I looked at my hand. It was as white as the walls. I felt my pulse at my neck; my heart rate was immeasurably rapid and weak. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was bleeding to death.

The fact that I was a doctor is the only reason I am still here today. A further set of observations were not due for another four hours at best. I decided to call for help. I pressed the help button and when the nurse came, told her I thought something was wrong. She took my observations, called a doctor, and I ended up in theatre.
This was the beginning of a new journey for me with the NHS – one of receiving rather than serving. The events of that night affected me profoundly, both physically and mentally. It shook my faith in the NHS. I am haunted by the possibility that, had I let the sleepiness take over, I would have bled to death, lying in bed with my daughter beside me. I remain heartbroken that after pouring my heart and soul into the NHS for over 10 years, when it was my turn, it failed me.
When I finally went back to work 14 months later, I didn’t know if I could stay working as a doctor. I didn’t know if my health was up to it or if I could handle it psychologically. It wasn’t long, however, before I realised how lucky I was to be healthy enough to be doing the job that I love again. It is a privilege, and it always will be, to help people, for free and in their best interests, on the NHS. But it is a struggle and most days it feels like I need to be a warrior. The workload is immense: I don’t have time to explain to relatives what I have done for their loved one. I don’t have time to rest or sit down. If I take five minutes to eat, I am wracked with guilt because if I do, what happened to me might happen to someone else.
Our NHS is in crisis. A haemorrhage nearly killed me and now a haemorrhage of staff is killing the NHS.
We need good, well-trained professionals in our NHS and we need to retain them. All healthcare professionals want is to care for their patients in a safe environment. When they can’t do that, they feel demoralised and they leave. The gaps they leave must be filled by agency staff (at greater expense), and junior staff acting up to a role they may not be ready for. And, sometimes, there are gaps that can’t be filled at all.
In November 2015, the Health Service Journal published analysis showing thatnine out of 10 acute hospitals in England were failing to meet their own targetsfor the numbers of nurses working on ward.
In May 2015 a Royal College of Nursing report warned that “unless rapid action is taken, the NHS is projected to spend at least £980m on agency nursing staff by the end of this financial year”. From 2013 to 2015 168 NHS trusts spent an additional £100m per quarter on agency nurses – an increase of more than 150%.
Last week, HSJ reported that the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence’s safe staffing committee pressed ahead with recommending minimum nurse ratios in English accident and emergency departments despite opposition in government and senior NHS circles.
The number of UK medical graduates working in Australian emergency departments has risen 60% in recent years. In 2015, 620 trained emergency medicine doctors emigrated to Australia and New Zealand (one third of all UK emergency doctors). A survey found that 70% of junior doctors planned to leave if the new contract was imposed.
Britain currently needs 26,500 more doctors and 47,700 more nurses to match the standards of other developed countries at an estimated cost of £5bn. Meanwhile, those that remain are being asked to provide a seven-day service over and above the emergency services they are already struggling to provide safely, with no extra funding and no increase in staffing. 

By the end of my first year as a doctor, I was ready to kill myself

 

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The NHS is about to implode. The projected overspend for the year is £2bn. The projected cost for the NHS by 2020 is £30bn. Only £8bn of that has been promised by the current government. The £22bn shortfall is unlikely to be met by efficiency savings.
It’s time for us to decide as a nation what we want and what we need. Politicians from all parties need to come together and have an open conversation with the public and the professionals at the frontline of the NHS. The NHS can no longer be a political toy, experimented with as each government changes. We need to be able to take care of people every day, year on year, regardless of who’s in power.
That is, if you want us to.
The writer writes under a pseudonym.
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