On Wednesday I worked at the 'acute' hospital site in our NHS Trust.
I don't like it. It's busy. Too many people. Too frantic. Trolleys with patients going back and forth. To me it doesn't feel friendly or inviting. I am the country mouse visiting the town.
After my first meeting I pop to the shop for a snack. As I pay for it the lady behind be bursts into tears. She's crying deeply, from the bottom of her heart, her pain touches my heart and I reach out to make contact.
I ask the obvious and she tells me her dad is dying. I ask if she'd like to talk to me about it. We pay for our goods and head for the public seating.
There's seven kinds of mayhem going on in the foyer...people... nurses...doctors...A woman dressed as Elsa from Frozen singing Disney songs (I'm not even making this stuff up) and a lady with a labrador from Pets As Therapy.
The lady is sobbing, her shoulders jumping up and down. For a few moments I hug the stranger and she hugs back. We rock and sway in that attempt at comfort we 'mums' do, rubbing the back of the injured one, trying to rub away the hurt.
We cry. We hug. We sit and talk, she shares her tissues with me as I'm crying too by now.
Her story is that her 62 year old dad has been dying from cancer for a long time. Today the doctor's told her, would be her dad's last. His body, bones and organs are now so filled with disease he can't fight the pain and will die. She tells me she will be glad for him to be free of his pain but no one can find a quiet room for this man to die quietly, with dignity and with his daughter calmly by his side. He's on a trolley in a corridor.
She has contacted our branch of PALS (Patient Advice and Liaison Service) and they are on the case to help give this man a 'good death'. We chat some more. She gathers the change she needs to fuel the parking meter and we exchange first names. Then she is gone and I return to work.
It bothers me. It bothers me that this woman had extra pain that she should not have had. It bothers me that her father was not getting the dignity he deserved. It bothers me that I will never find out if 'we' (the hospital) managed to give this family a good death. Patient confidentiality prevents me from tracing them.
I hope we did and I hope the woman is free from guilty as her father is hopefully free from pain.
Puts my day at the office in perspective. (My boss did ask why my eyes were red and puffy!)
