I never wanted to be a doctor

Science doesn't really interest me, and I was never very good at it anyway. 

When I was shadowing a surgical fellow as part of paired learning, I spent an afternoon in theatres observing eye surgery performed by the fellow, under the supervision of the consultant.  I was so envious of how much learning was going on. How the surgeon was challenged but also supported, and how much investment there was in his learning. This is someone who was really advanced in his career, who had done a long degree, years and years of training and was applying for consultant posts, but still was learning all the time.

I left theatres wishing that I had that opportunity, wishing that I still had a teacher and that I was still learning so much. All of a sudden I panicked I was in the wrong job, that I should be in a job where I'm not "doing" all the time, but in a job where i'm learning continuously.  

A few months later, I read this fantastic blog describing a shift in expectations of junior doctors, how some people think they can only learn in a lecture theatre, and they can't learn rewriting a drug chart or re-doing a task they've done thousands of times before.

This made me think of everything I've learnt by doing. I'm lucky to be in a role where all day I'm being challenged to try new things and given the opportunities to develop myself whilst being supported, but perhaps not in a traditional "teaching" style or environment.

Whilst I was thinking about this, I got this tweet:

@LydiaBenedetta @ian_wac @MaryHobin day you stop learning, time to a) stop lying to yourself or b) get another job
— Alex Borg (@AlexanderDBorg) July 14, 2014

I am developing my skills and knowledge all the time, but I'm not thinking about it or even acknowledging it. 

So much so that when I went into theatres with my colleague, I thought he was the only one learning.

not that bad

I thought about the blog that I was going to write after the event; about the NHS, equality and the workplace, the intelligent and insightful comments that came from both the panel and the audience.

I told my friend I had a taxi booked in ten minutes; “did you let them know about my guide dog?” It hadn’t occurred to me to tell them, but I thought, you never know, the driver could be allergic, their child could be allergic, so I rung back and explained.  

OK, the operator said, no problem.  Ten minutes later a phone call from the driver: “what do you mean there is a dog? how big is the dog?  you can only get in if the dog sits on your lap.”

I could hear my friend in the background: I’m not going to get let into that car, they never like it, I really struggle to find a taxi.

It’s illegal- she reminded me to tell the driver on the phone. When we got out to the taxi it was the same: “I’m scared of the dog, where does it sit, I don’t want the dog near me.  Don’t get me wrong, I like drivingyou people around but I don’t want the dog in the car”

After some negotiation and reminders that it was illegal to refuse us we got in the taxi and drove to the station while the taxi driver made small talk and my blood boiled.

When we got out my friend said- that wasn’t too bad, we got in the taxi.  I always have problems with things like this.   Not that bad?  We were not only made to feel unwelcome but also unwanted because of something that gives you independence and enables you to lead a full life- in a service which we arepaying for.  Not that bad?

So this isn’t a blog about quotas on boards, or the equalities act, or the lack of representation in Birmingham City Council.  This is just my account of one small moment in my friend’s everyday life; a single event in a long series of similar situations that make up her reality.  How ironic that it was on the way back from an event on equality and diversity in the workplace.  How can we have equality in the workplace if we don’t have equality in society?

Art and Hospitals

It took me a while to understand the photographs.  Close ups of faces with scribbles on them, some drawings, some with the whole face covered in writing.  It was right next to the revolving door at the exit of the NHS Expo conference, far away from the corporate sponsors and the stands of branded freebies and glossy brochures.  A simple stand of photographs and a small table with a few flyers.  It looked so lost in the corner so I wondered over.  Mike Papesch, an ENT surgeon, came and explained the project to me, which he worked on with the artist Emma Barnard.  Immediately after their consultation, patients were invited to have their portrait taken. They then drew or wrote on their portraits, expressing their thoughts and feelings.  The portraits show what patients are going through emotionally, through a snapshot of their hopes and fears.

The images are so powerful and so honest.  Mike explained how he had felt the consultations had gone, how surprised he was at some of images, and the insight he got into both his patients as people, and his own practice.   We discussed the reactions to the project from colleagues, which ranged from love or hate, to indifference.  I learnt more in the 10 minutes I spent looking at these photos and talking to Mike than I have done at any NHS conference.  Why wasn't this in the main conference site, where everyone had been for the last two days? They had been invited to exhibit at Expo but were only given this spot near the exit.  Unfortunately, this is the reality of an innovative idea with little funding and no corporate sponsorship, but it did make me reflect on the true purpose of the conference.  

These photos give an idea of what it feels like for that person at that moment in hospital.  It shows patients as people, with lives, loves, dreams, hopes, fears.  This is what it means to put patients at the centre, to give patients a voice.  These images encourage us to ask, listen, reflect, share and learn.  

 

Earlier in the day Helen Bevan described how true innovation happens at the edges of organisations.  How fitting that at the very edge of NHS Expo, there was the most innovative idea, the most though provoking, inspiring and uplifting project.  Instead of telling healthcare professionals and patients what to do and think, it calmly and humbly showed people's emotions when they are at their most vulnerable, and made me think.

Sorry about the poor quality of these photographs, they do not do it justice.  You can see more about the project here

Cake and Chocolate

My new job in strategy at Birmingham Children’s Hospital means I spend a lot of time in the office, but for a day I shadowed Mary Hobin, Head of Nursing in Medicine, to get to know the hospital a bit better.


As I expected, the day involved lots of discussions around staffing, current pressures in the hospital, and visiting the wards. However I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a massive cake in the conservatory to celebrate reaching 75% of frontline staff having the flu jab! The good news vibe didn’t stop there, as the management team meeting ended with good news stories and whilst there was a strong message about reaching financial targets this year and in the future, the atmosphere was positive.


The language we use is something that really fascinates me especially when there are two languages within the NHS- clinical and managerial. There was a good discussion on whether CIPs (cost improvement plans) is the right phrase to use with clinicians and whether it should be called something different in order to focus on the benefit to the patient rather than the bottom line. However it was also acknowledged that finding savings is going to get harder and we need to be honest about the financial situation and the reality of having to do more with less.


The day ended with a tour of Ocean Ward, the newly opened complex care unit, with a visitor from Alder Hey hospital. It is great that at a time where more and more competition is introduced into healthcare, colleagues are still welcomed to the hospital to learn from each other. The sister showed us around with pride and her passion for the service shone through. But it was a shame to hear about housing problems and cuts in social care across the country, that mean discharges are getting delayed and these children are in hospital rather than being cared for at home.


As we got back to the sister’s desk, we saw that the chief exec had been round to the ward to drop off a box of chocolates for each member of staff for Christmas. Working here definitely isn't all cake and chocolate... but it is a place where passion and commitment is celebrated, and isn't cake a great way to do it!