Why nurses have stopped caring

It's a very interesting time to be going into nursing.

Everyone has heard the horror stories over the last few years, and particularly more recently, and there is this huge public perception that nurses just don't care about their patients anymore. And there is a lot of truth behind the stories - in too many situations, the care people are receiving is simply unacceptable. But I find it very difficult to believe that most nurses start their careers without a genuine desire to care for people. Let's be honest, the financial rewards aren't exactly enormous, the hours are long and it's always going to be a stressful job. There has to be something else driving people to take up nursing in the first place, and I believe that the vast majority become nurses because they want to help people. Certainly that's true for me, and for my coursemates, and for many nurses I know.

So how do people with such good intentions end up treating their patients with a total lack of care and compassion? Because the systems grinds them down. Because they spend years overworked and underappreciated, because there is never enough staff and never enough time, because every time something does happen and uproar rightly ensues, the sticking-plaster solution is to bring in more regulation and more paperwork, resulting in even less time for patients. I'm not excusing in any way the behaviour of nurses such as those involved in the failings at Mid-Staffordshire Trust or responsible for the care of Ann Clwyd's husband more recently in the news, but sometimes it's hard to remember that nurses are human too. As humans we all reach a breaking point. And when it's the very nature of the "caring profession" that is causing nurses to lose their compassion and care, then things need to change.

I'm currently on my first placement on a children's ward, and I have to say I am absolutely loving it. I am exhausted and stressed, but I really feel like this is the career for me. But what is to stop someone like me, at the very start of their career and hoping to make a difference to people's lives, turning into a nurse who doesn't care a few years down the line? To be honest, I don't know, and that scares me. Right now, I cannot even imagine myself showing such disregard for my patients wellbeing, but I bet that the nurses involved at Stafford Hospital were enthusiastic and well meaning students once. Vilifying nurses who fall short is not going to change anything. It is the system that needs changing. In a time of ever increasing cuts, and the stretching of funds and people power, nurses are never going to be able to spend the time and attention on patients that they need and deserve. The more cuts that the NHS takes, and there are more to come, the worse the situation is going to get. The government needs to wake up and realise this, before another generation of healthcare workers get disillusioned and stop caring. Because caring is our job, and if we can't do that, then we've failed.

Musings on graduation, mental health, and the next part of The Plan.

It's been a very interesting summer.

At the end of June, I graduated from uni. There have been times over the past three years where I never believed that could happen. The irony of battling against depression whilst attempting to study for a psychology degree has never been lost on me. My years in Durham have been an absolute roller coaster ride, and that takes in the good times as well as the bad. The low points have been very low indeed, but when things have been good, I have had the time of my life. I fell in love with a city and the best college that ever was, lived away from home for the first time, learned about myself, had relationships, made the best friends anyone could hope for, danced, drank, laughed, cried, and somehow managed to pick up a degree along the way. I can't put into words quite how much I will miss Durham, and Chad's in particular, and in some ways it is still sinking in that that part of my life is over. But with every ending comes a new beginning and I left in June with two months stretching ahead of me before the next part of the plan came into being.

To be honest, I didn't have a lot planned for the summer. The aim was to get some kind of job and earn a bit of money, and to sort myself out for moving to London in September. The first part sort of happened, the second not so much. Very little was thought ahead, but I have ended up having a truly wonderful summer, with friends and with family, across England and Ireland, between festivals, weddings, parties, babysitting, theme parks and camping. With all this busy-ness, I haven't really though much about the next step...

Now it is six days before my nursing course starts and I am still without accommodation, I haven't packed and I'm generally starting to get nervous. What if I'm not cut out for this? What if I can't deal with the workload? What if I don't make any friends? What if, without the support network I have in Southampton and in Durham, I hide myself away and fail? What if the depression sucks me back down into that black hole that has taken so much from me? I'm not usually a worrier - actually that's a lie, I'm an inveterate worrier, but it's usually about others, not myself. On the other hand, this is the biggest change I've had in a long time. I'm now at the point of giving myself a metaphorical slap on the wrist, and telling myself to stop being so stupid and enjoy the ride. I guess that will have to do for now. Onward with the next part of the adventure, wish me luck!!

New Beginnings and Winnings...

It's been a while since I've had any kind of blog, so bear with me whilst I get back into the swing of things!

I coxed my first regatta of this year's rowing season yesterday. Yes, I am that small and noisy person who sits at the front of the boat and steers and shouts. It suits me perfectly. I've been coxing for my college boat club for three years now, and although I do it all year round, I absolutely love regatta season in the summer. Not just because the weather is better (although coxing is decidedly less fun at -12 degrees...) but because the races we compete in during the winter are head races, meaning they are timed pieces and we are racing against the clock. Regattas in the summer are over shorter distances and we compete directly with another crew. First one over the finish line wins the race and goes through to the next round. I know I cox better, and I'm pretty sure almost every rower I know rows better in regattas than in head races, there is so much adrenaline and sense of competition that you push yourself to be the best you can be.

So yesterday, my girls got a bye to the final of their category, as there were only three crews competing. We were only expecting one race, whether a win or a lose. I have never coxed a race that has been so well matched before. We were neck and neck with the other crew the whole way down the course, and as we crossed the finish line, none of us knew who had won. And as it turned out, neither did the umpires. They decided it was a dead heat and sent us all back to the start line to re-race. About 20 strokes into the second race, the marshals starting yelling at us all to stop rowing - the steamer pleasure boat that stops for no-one was heading up the river. For a third time, we lined up at the start line, to restart our re-race. Understandably, things we starting to get a bit tense by this point! Again it was incredibly close, but my girls rowed their little hearts out, with me shouting so hard I started seeing stars, and we pulled away from the other crew right at the end to win by just a few inches.

As we'd won the category, the girls all won points meaning that we are promoted to the next category up for the rest of the season. We also all got lovely shiny medals. I have never been a sporty kinda gal - probably something to do with my complete lack of hand-eye coordination, propensity to injure myself and ability to fall over whilst standing still (no jokes...). When I was growing up, I particularly hated team games as I always felt I was letting the rest of the team down by aforementioned uselessness. Since coming to university and getting involved in coxing, I have absolutely loved the fact that this is something I can do and do well, and that I am an important part of the team - not doing the same job as everyone else but an important job nonetheless. Rowers generally tend to forget the cox and what they contribute to the boat, but after a win like yesterday's they were all very appreciative of me as well as each other. The whole crew pulling together to get those medals is a fantastic feeling, and makes all the early mornings in snow, hail and rain absolutely worth it.

I'm still riding high on the buzz and have a very croaky voice after so much shouting, but bring on the next regatta! :)