Care Standards

I read an article in The Scotsman newspaper the other day - which I found very upsetting - because it reminded me of a similar experience I had with my mother.

Here's an extract which gives you the gist of the article - which revolves around an interview with Scotland's national poet - or Makar - LIz Lochead.


"Scottish Makar Liz Lochhead wept as she recalled the “appalling” way she and her husband were dealt with by an NHS surgeon when told he was dying of cancer.

Scotland’s poet laureate said the surgeon who broke the news to them was “lacking in common humanity” and “shouldn’t actually be near human beings unless they are under anaesthetic”.

Her husband, Tom Logan, died of pancreatic cancer last June, before Lochhead took on the role of Makar at the start of this year.

Lochhead was speaking at the launch of a new group which aims to get Scots to speak more openly about death, dying and bereavement, making the subject less of a taboo.

The group – Good Life, Good Death, Good Grief – is an alliance of more than 40 organisations and charities which say that avoiding thinking and talking about death can have devastating consequences for the dying and bereaved. Speaking at the launch of the group in Edinburgh yesterday, Lochhead apologised for arriving late, explaining: “I got upset and thought it would be better to wait until I was OK.”

She said the night before taking up the post of Makar in January, she had written a letter to the consultant who had given her and her husband the devastating diagnosis.

Lochhead said she hoped reading sections of the letter would be a plea to those working in the NHS and training doctors to understand the impact they had when giving this kind of news.

She said in May last year she was sitting with her husband waiting to see the consultant, whom she referred to as Mr C, at Gartnavel Hospital in Glasgow.

Reading from the letter, she said: “I know every word that you, Mr C, said and the manner in which you said it, and will remember this for as long as I live."

“You said… ‘well, it’s bad news I’m afraid. It is the worst. You have inoperable pancreatic cancer. I’m a surgeon. I do cancer operations. I can’t operate, you may as well go home tomorrow. I see you live nearby’.

“What’s that got to do with anything, I remember puzzling me at the time.”

She said the surgeon explained cancer survival was measured in five-year periods. Lochhead said he stated blankly to her husband: “You won’t be alive in five years.”

Lochhead said the surgeon went on to complain about some “petty protocol” regarding admission procedures that was nothing to do with them.

“You might be a brilliant surgeon,” she read. “But you’re an utterly inadequate human being, at least in terms of communication skills.” Mr Logan died only a month later. Lochhead said other doctors who had to pass on bad news during his care had done so with simple honesty, clarity and compassion.

But she said that the surgeon, and a registrar who also saw them, were “just appalling”.

“I hope if either of you or anyone you love ever come to such a terrible place as we were in, you never encounter anyone as lacking in common humanity as you,” she read.

Lochhead said she had never received a response to her letter. Making a last comment about the consultant who dealt with the couple, she said: “That man should not be in the job he is doing.”

I can empathise with Liz Lochead because of a similar experience with my dear old Mum - who had been attending an insensitively named 'geriatric out-patients clinic' at Stobhill Hospital - for well over a year.

The consultant's diagnosis was that my Mum was suffering from the effects of growing older - and that she just had to learn to live with things.

Now my Mum tried to hide her symptoms from her family - to stop us worrying - but when I took her on a holiday to Canada I was with my Mum a lot more than usual - and I could tell that something was badly wrong.

So I made an appointment and went with my Mum to GP - who agreed she should be referred to another consultant - a neurologist - but that this could take over twelve months.

My Mum - who was a great supporter of the NHS over the years - asked 'What if I pay for a private referral?' - and the answer came back that she could be seen within a week.

And that's what happened - I went with her again to see the (NHS) consultant on a private basis - who diagnosed her as suffering from Parkinson's Disease within 10 minutes - and immediately prescribed medication to help my Mum cope with the condition.

I was really annoyed at the poor quality of care that my Mum had received from the consultant at the 'geriatric out-patient clinic' - but he turned out to be the same kind of arrogant, insufferable doctor - whom Liz Lochead and her husband encountered.

He tried to dismiss my concerns in a peremptory way - by saying that Parkinson's was a difficult condition to diagnose - which I didn't buy for a minute.

My only regret is that I didn't complain more vigorously - but that would have dragged my Mum into the situation - so I let it go.

But that's a big issue in the NHS - and for other public services - people don't complain enough which is a shame because that's the way to drive up standards.

Because we all pay for the NHS through our taxes - and not at the point where services are delivered - some people are reluctant to complain - yet we should.

We owe it to our mums and dads - our wives, husbands, children - and significant others.

So I would just like to thank Liz Lochead for speaking out - so movingly and so powerfully - I only hope the powers that be are listening.

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