Hospital life, the good and the bad

Another patient died. I won't say we killed him, it was the hospital that killed him. No, that's not quite right. It was the lack of staff that killed him. Every time I walked past his room he was slumped in his chair with his chin resting on his rattling chest. Not the best position for someone with pneumonia. And if he wasn't slumped in his chair, then he was curled up in his bed with his breakfast tray sitting on the table in front of him, untouched.

The nurse was supposed to feed him, but she can't cope with 12 surgical patients plus the two medical patients they've placed in our ward due to a shortage of beds. Back home in good old New Zealand they never let you have more than six patients in my old ward.

I'm getting used to working in these conditions, although I will never be happy with the quality of care that I can give. I just can't spread myself around so many patients. I hope tomorrow will be better, but somehow I doubt it very much. This is what nursing in Britain is all about.

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