People who enter the caring professions usually do so because they are kind.
Generous, compassionate, altruistic folk who just want to help others and improve society for all.
Doctors, nurses, care staff and emergency workers… all the people we clapped for during Covid.
But watching the new series of Ambulance on TV I’ve been reminded of the special brand of kindness possessed by paramedics and call handlers.
I’ve seen it first-hand too, while out on assignments with crews or shadowing the 999 dispatchers.
Because they deal with people at the very worst moment of their lives.
And they ensure that the hurt, scared and desperate get empathy along with expertise and humanity as well as heroism.
They are the calming voice and touch that says: “It’s all OK .”
But right now things don’t feel OK for thousands of frightened patients, such as cancer sufferer David Wakeley, 83. The retired welder from Cornwall broke seven ribs and his pelvis in a fall at his Cornish home – and lay outside for 15 hours waiting for paramedics to arrive.
Lynne Jones from Shropshire was stuck on a path for ten hours with a broken leg as she waited for an ambulance. Across the country there are ever more horror stories of people waiting up to 40 hours for help. Because the NHS is on its knees and our ambulance service is in crisis.
Twelve years of savage Tory cuts have left 6.7 million people waiting for NHS treatment and ambulance call numbers have doubled. Hospitals are full of patients who can’t be discharged because there aren’t enough care home beds or community services. So ambulances are left queuing outside A&Es unable to offload patients and attend to the next emergency.
The College of Paramedics says 34,000 patients a month come to harm due to delays and 4,000 are seriously affected. Crews who would normally help eight patients in a 12-hour shift can get to just two or three.
Staff are so stressed and demoralised they are quitting the caring profession “in droves”. Or being sent on “kindness workshops” like London ambulance call-handlers. Yep, staff have leave ringing phones to have lessons in how to be kind… first to themselves, of course, as that will make them better people, more able to “notice, role-model, speak up and appreciate”.
These are run by a private firm which boasts of having done “years of work with 35,000 NHS staff”. People who, I’m sure, went into caring professions because they were already kind.
Perhaps the Tory Cabinet should go to these workshops instead? While we decide what kind of people we want in the government profession.
