NHS staff

When I’m 94…(to the tune of When I’m 64 by the Beatles)

When the NHS was created in 1948, 64 was considered elderly. Both my grandfathers died during the 1940s aged 50 from what we now know to have been smoking related illnesses, having served in the WW1 trenches. My maternal grandmother died aged 65. My other grandma managed to last a bit longer; she died in December 1982 aged 79. 3 out of 4 died in their own beds at home.

I was born in 1955, a child of the NHS. I have worked in it since aged 18. The NHS was set up to improve the extremely poor health of the nation after World War 2, with clinics providing advice and free milk, vitamins, orange juice and cod liver oil, as well as weighing and measuring children, hearing and eye tests, free dentistry, and checking for lice, nits, scabies and rickets. A mass free screening and vaccination programme began for common killer diseases such as smallpox, diptheria, tetanus, polio and TB. Going to the clinic with my mother and younger brothers was fascinating and memorable. Providing care free at the point of delivery to people who were sick or injured was a massive bonus for the public, but its wasn’t intended to be the main aim of the new NHS.

Despite these wonderful founding principles, the NHS quickly began to increase its focus on treating sickness. The status of hospital medicine has always been greater than public health or primary care; this continues today. Radical health promotion initiatives such as the Peckham Experiment sadly closed down before they had a chance to prove themselves.

I trained as a health visitor in 1978, having been inspired during my hospital nurse training – in 1975 I went out for the day with the local health visitor. As well as admiring her cream Morris Traveller and adorable spaniel puppy, I will never forget one visit. In a tiny cottage in a village outside Cambridge, we called on an elderly lady. I remembered her in hospital after a massive stroke, lying with her face turned to the wall. Back home, despite needing two sticks and very limited speech, she ushered us into her cosy kitchen, all smiles, and made us tea and biscuits while her cat snoozed on the sunny windowsill.

Community services (those outside hospital that either help people to stay healthy or look after them at home when they are ill or dying) and mental health services have always been the Cinderellas of the NHS. Never more so than in the last few years, when they have experienced unprecedented cuts in order for commissioners to continue to pay for increasingly sophisticated physical hospital interventions.

Today I have a lovely gig: joining 100 or so folk from the NHS and social care system in Kent, Surrey and Sussex, all of whom want to improve care for older people. It is organised by the KSS Academic Health Science Network. Life expectancy in Kent, Surrey and Sussex is the highest in the UK. Were it not for pockets of significant deprivation along the Kent and Sussex coast, and the appalling fact that people with serious mental illness live 20 years less than the population average (25 years less than the KSS average), it would be even higher. It is common for acute hospital wards to be entirely populated by people in their mid 90s and above. The people attending the event know things have to change. Medicalising old age is cruel as well as extremely costly.

It is, fortuitously, Dementia Awareness Week and Dying Matters Awareness Week. I know from the research of my brilliant ex-colleague Professor Sube Banerjee that only 18% of people who have dementia only have dementia. The majority have between 2 and 7 other significant health conditions that seriously affect their lives. The way we run the NHS is simply not serving their needs, despite very elderly people being its majority users. I also know from the wonderful work of organisations such Dying Matters that these days, most people die in hospital despite very much preferring to be cared for at home.

Today, we will be encouraging the people at the event to face this enormous challenge together. We have to do things differently. It says so in the Five Year Forward View. The attendees at this event are to some extent, like those involved in the vanguard sites across the country, the converted. But even they will have to throw away beloved ideas and think the unthinkable.

I am indebted to @HannahTizard on Twitter for this lovely infographic about tall poppies.
image

Tall poppies may experience meanness from others because they are full of ideas and are not afraid to challenge the status quo. They are always thinking about how to do things better and are not prepared to accept mediocrity, especially when it harms others.

I will be using this lovely infographic today to encourage the people at the event, who I think of already as tall poppies, and giving them a link to this blog so they have a reference to keep.

I hope you find it helpful too. Please be a tall poppy; challenge the status quo if you think the care you provide or commission isn’t what you think you would want yourself when you are 94 or even older.  And do something right now to start making things better for every elderly person who wants fewer tubes up their bottom and down their throat, and more time to enjoy their latter days with somebody kind to sit with them, help them to have a drink and hold their hand.

Meanwhile, as I intend to live until at least 94, I’m off to read Sod 70! by the indomitable Dr Muir Gray, to help me continue to treat my body hard but well, and How to Age by Anne Karpf, from the School of Life series, to help me manage my (sometimes fragile) psyche and approach old age with equanimity and joy.

Do please join me.

Post script: 11 hours after posting this, I’ve already had lots of feedback. One person feels I’m generalising and that the research quoted doesn’t support my view that older people would prefer to avoid unnecessary investigations. I agree that we must ask people and really listen carefully to their answer before subjecting them to invasive tests. Over 100 seem to like it so far.

I’ve also realised that I’ve been channelling the #HulloOurAimIs campaign from NHS Change Day led by my lovely Twitter and real life chum Alex Silverstein @AlexYLDiabetes. So I wanted to mention it. Alex is the tallest of poppies and despite being less than half my age, has taught me loads. Go Alex and thank you xxx

 

 

Dear New Secretary of State for Health

Congratulations on helping to form a rainbow coalition government so quickly, and for your appointment. It is wonderful that a Conservative/Green/LibDem/Labour/National Health Action (delete as appropriate) MP is prepared to set aside political differences and take responsibility for the NHS in England on behalf of us all. What could be more important?

I expect you will get a few suggestions on what to do first. I thought I’d make it easy and send you my list at the earliest opportunity. It contains 5 things.

  1. Pass an Act of Parliament that makes it illegal for any politician to use the NHS as a political football. This will allow you to make plans with all the coalition partners that transcend the short – sightedness of a 5 year parliamentary term. And if it puts the Daily Mail out of business, it will be have the added benefit of improving the nation’s mental well-being.
  2. Appoint a group of well-informed independent thinkers to form your ministerial team. A few suggestions: Dr Sarah Wollaston, Norman Lamb, Dr Caroline Lucas, Liz Kendall, Dr Clive Peedell. They will help you remember the difference between the role of elected members – to set overall strategy and oversee governance – and of professional clinicians and managers, whose job it is to advise on how best to achieve your aims safely and then deliver them for you. Don’t be tempted to get  involved in professional matters such as numbers of hospitals and staff, or specific clinical policies. The most important job for you and your team is the give the experts room to work and keep politics with a big P out of it while they do.
  3. When fighting for the money needed from the Treasury to stabilise and transform the NHS and meet health needs today and for generations to come, think what Nye Bevan would have done if he had been told it couldn’t be afforded. Then do that.
  4. Do what you must to sort out the mess that means that 7 people now do the job of one civil servant who used to run the NHS, and ties the hands of politicians like yourself in bureaucratic loops. Remove the tyranny of competition for competition’s sake. But don’t do a wholesale reorganisation. It is the way we provide NHS services that needs to change, not arcane aspects of structure.
  5. Dump the phrase “parity of esteem”. It has lost all credibility. Instead, allocate funding on the basis of disease burden and the cost of not offering treatment based on the best evidence at the earliest opportunity. This way, children and young people’s mental health services will jump from the bottom of the priority pile to the top, with mental health services for adults of all ages coming a close second. If anyone complains, point out these three facts:
  • Psychosis is like cancer. The earlier it is diagnosed and treated, the better the prognosis and the least likely it is to recur. The same is true for all serious mental illnesses.
  • 75% of mental illnesses start before the age of 18. Like my depression
  • People with serious mental illness die on average 20 years earlier than the rest of the population. From suicide, yes, but more frequently from heart disease, strokes, cancer and the complications of Type 2 diabetes. Putting mental illness first will save money and lives, and make those lives worth living.

The results of the 2015 election show that the public are fed up with media-savvy politicians who speak in sound-bites and put their own interests and those of their well-connected friends before the needs of ordinary people. But it will take us a while to relearn that honourable politicians sometimes make mistakes, that most mistakes only come to light with the benefit of hindsight, and that even the best decisions don’t invariably deliver the expected results. Being a public servant has never been harder. Please take care of yourself; we need you to remain compassionate, committed and to keep telling it to us like it is.

With loving kindness,

Lisa

 

 

Sometimes it’s good to feel angry

One effect of antidepressants is to knock the top and bottom from one’s emotional range. After dark weeks of despair, self-loathing and nothingness of my most recent depression, I welcomed this. It was a relief to feel calm, even blunted.

Now I’m on a reducing dose of medication, I notice a gradual return to a more responsive emotional state. I’m more joyful, sometimes a little more anxious. And I find myself getting angry again about things that matter to me.

Actually, I felt angry today.

While it’s great that NHS England and the government recognise the need to invest in children and young people’s mental health services (CAMHs), why has it taken so long to find this out? And why is investment an election manifesto promise, rather than simply the right thing to do for our young people?

I have two interests I should declare.

  1. I ran such services for 20 years, including 13 as a chief executive.

  2. I first saw a psychiatrist myself aged 15.

The current system isn’t working. But we need to understand how we reached this position, or we risk not improving things far enough, even at all.

CAMHs staff are, almost without exception, amazing people. They don’t look after one patient at a time. They deal with the complications of whole families. They have extraordinary skills, vocation, patience and perseverance plus bucket loads of compassion. But across the country, many are fed up with being blamed for failing children and young people. Because they aren’t failing them. We all are.

The current “commissioning” arrangements could not have been more badly designed unless they were intended to be poor value and counter-productive. It is unacceptable that the different “Tiers” of care are purchased by unrelated parts of the so-called “system”. And that when children fall between the gaps, it is the clinical staff and their employers who face the blame.

Local authorities are under even greater financial challenge than the NHS. Many have made massive cuts to the first line, lower tiers of these services, or made them even harder to access than the higher, NHS tiers. Yet their members sit, by statute, in judgement of the NHS through Health Overview and Scrutiny Committees. Watch me and colleagues participating in this arrangement at Kent County Council a year ago, during which time one councillor publicly suggested that commissioners had set up the trust and staff I then led to fail.

Commissioners of such services have in many cases not been given the chance to argue for increases in resources, or even to defend the services they commission from cuts. Some have even felt the need to assert that providers were exaggerating the now-proven, substantial national increase in referrals. The causes are multi-faceted.

In many unrelated parts of England, services are inundated and can’t cope. Crises occur daily and children wait in police cells to be assessed by hard – pressed clinicians who know there are no beds available anywhere in the country even if the child is in desperate need of admission.

3 useful facts:

  •  Anorexia isn’t a young person’s lifestyle choice. It is a serious mental illness that, without effective treatment, carries a 30% mortality rate.
  •  Psychosis is like cancer. The earlier it is diagnosed and treated, the better your prognosis and the least likely it is to recur. The same is true for most other serious mental illnesses.
  •  75% of mental illnesses start before the age of 18. Like my depression

My 8-point plan for NHS England

  1. Do not ask management consultants or experts in commissioning to design solutions. Ask the people who know. The ones who work in and run these services
  2. Stop setting organisations against each other by competitive tendering. This may be OK when you have time, but with this, you don’t.
  3. Commission one local statutory organisation in each area under the greatest pressure to be the system leader for all aspects of CAMHs except secure care, with commissioners working within the local system. Avoid competition challenges by declaring an emergency, setting targets for engagement with CCGs and GPs, and requiring the lower tiers to be expanded and provided outside the NHS, either directly by schools and/or the not-for-profit sector. Do this for long enough to allow things to settle and thrive, ie a minimum of five years.
  4. Don’t allow anything to cloud your judgement. It isn’t social care good, NHS care bad. Or vice versa. CAMHs teams should be multi-disciplinary and multi-agency. Parents and children don’t care who staff work for. What they care about is getting help that is responsive and effective.
  5. Carefully consider secure services for children and young people. Are they good value? Clinically effective? Compassionate? Safe? And are children in these services only because there are insufficient non-secure services? Only national commissioners can do this.
  6. Work as hard with the next government for increased funding for CAMHs as you would for heart disease or cancer care, were these services in an equally challenged state.
  7. Celebrate the amazing staff who do this work. Encourage ministers, the media, CCGs, trusts, schools and the third sector to do the same.
  8. Imagine what you would want for your children, were they suicidal, self-harming or hearing voices.

What could matter more?

 

 

 

 

Pride and Prejudice: post NHS Change Day ponderings
20.30 from Birmingham New Street to London Euston

20.10 Birmingham New Street to London Euston

You know how it is. There’s been a big event in your life – a special birthday or a wedding. Even NHS Change Day.

Now the party’s over. Everyone’s gone home, you’ve done the clearing up and read the thank you texts. You’ve got a hangover and sore feet from dancing till dawn. And you feel a bit flat. And you wonder what the point of all that fuss was.

I was feeling a bit like that the day after NHS Change Day. Maybe you were too? I’d given my all to various events in Birmingham. I was made extremely welcome by amazing people at Birmingham Children’s Hospital, at Birmingham Community Trust, at two children and young people’s mental health services and by patients, users, carers and staff at a West Midlands Health and Care Voices event in the evening.

It felt very special to share thoughts with patients and staff about things we all care very much about. Everyone seemed up for playing their part in changes that needed to happen. And our NHS Change Day: Time To Change campaign also seemed to hit the mark for many of the folk I came across.

A student nurse called Ellie did something on NHS Change Day that I didn’t have the courage to do until I was 58. In this blog, she beautifully describes what happened to her in front of 40 other people. In our Time to Change video, I ponder what may have made me take so long.

So that’s the pride part. I felt proud of my small contribution to NHS Change Day.

And the prejudice? It was to realise that some of the naysayers also had a point. While NHS Change Day 2015 has been amazing, people who have never heard of it continue to do stunning stuff. Like my friend Alison, a sister in a hospice, who with her colleagues care for dying people with such skill and compassion, I defy anyone not be able to learn something from how they work. Their hospice is one of the most joyous and hopeful places I have ever been invited to visit.

Or another friend, a clinical leader in an acute hospital, battling to get colleagues to see people with dementia for what they really are, human beings with wants and needs, rather than “inappropriate admissions” or “delayed discharges”. Or a third friend, a health visitor with a caseload so huge, and with clients with so many complex health and social problems, I cannot imagine how she is coping. But she is, as are so many others like her.

On Friday, my mother and I went to visit my auntie, her only sister, in her care home. Most of the staff who work there earn not much more than the minimum wage. As always, we were moved by the tenderness shown towards those living at the home. These staff truly love the frail and confused people whose care has been entrusted to them.

People like this don’t need a special day. What they do every day is extraordinary.

The NHS has to change. We cannot go on as we are. It’s an honour still to be involved, as a helper now rather than a leader, and to play a small part in bringing some of those changes about. NHS Change Day is an enabler. But it is no more than that.

Life, and death, continue 24/7 across all parts of the NHS and the services that support it.

If you work in the NHS, I hope you had a wonderful NHS Change Day. Thank you for what you do every day. I am most humbly grateful.

 

#NHSChangeDay is not a distraction from #Kirkup. It is how we will fix things

This week, a number of people have been challenging those of us involved in NHS Change Day to demonstrate its value. Particularly in the light of the Kirkup report about what went wrong with maternity services at Morecambe Bay Hospitals over an extended period.

For example @GeorgeJulian wrote this interesting blog.

There are others questioning whether NHS Change Day is a cult, a cheer-leading exercise led by those with not enough to do, a distraction from the grindingly hard work of running the NHS without sufficient resources, even an opportunity for organisations to put a gloss on how tough things are for patients and staff.

I can see why they might think that. I have another take on it.

The Kirkup report was shocking, for me even more so than the Mid Staffordshire Hospitals report. It got to the heart of what can go wrong when staff go rogue and collude, when key professionals who should be working together in harmony for the benefit of patients declare war on one another, when clinicians are simply not competent to practice, and when managers, commissioners, regulators and even the ombudsman indulge in a form of magical thinking, ignoring the evidence of high rates of death and other serious incidents and accepting assurances that should never have been given. The courage of families, including the man who worked at the hospital and lost his wife and new baby, and James Titcombe and his wife whose baby son Joshua died, has been extraordinary. We owe them a debt of gratitude for never giving up and continuing to insist that the evidence must be looked at properly.

So how can NHS Change Day help? I write now as a nurse and a manager. There have been many times in my 41 years when I have been aware of something not being right. The first time I blew the whistle, I was just 18 and hadn’t even started my nurse training. You’ll have to wait for my book to read the details; suffice to say, I was ill-prepared, it didn’t go well and I was sent away with a flea in my ear. Sometimes it was me that made mistakes, sometimes it was someone else; these things can happen, and we were rightly taught always to own up if we had erred. But what about the surgeon with the shaky hands that everyone was expected to ignore, or the night sister who slept in the laundry room when she should have been supervising us? Who wants to be hated for being a sneak and reporting people who are liked, or may be experiencing personal problems?

My blood ran cold reading about those midwives at Morecambe Bay. They reminded me of maverick teams I have known. Teams who are brusque and unwelcoming however hard you try to engage them, who repel enquiries, describe managers who visit their services and ask questions as interfering, or even talk about bullying if an aspect of their working practice is questioned. And what about more senior clinicians, such as doctors, who are described by colleagues as brilliant but eccentric, and can be extremely unpleasant and difficult to deal with. The ones who write you long letters describing, with great charm, the stupidity of your ways for trying to introduce a change to improve the experience of patients. These people are the exception, but they have a massive impact. I can remember as an executive being told by a senior clinician that to expect to see the results of their clinical audit reports was tantamount to a slur on their professional standing. Eventually a brave junior member of staff blew the whistle on this person. They were dismissed for gross misconduct, upheld on appeal. But despite a ton of evidence, their regulatory body decided to allow them to continue in clinical practice.

The point I am making is that it isn’t easy to be a whistleblower, nor is it straightforward to tackle poor practice. The law is loaded on the side of employee rather than the employer, rightly so, but in healthcare this can and does affect patients.

Initiatives like NHS Change Day are the antidote. They put patients and caring, committed, non-defensive staff where they belong, in the driving seat. Leaders, including patient leaders, set the direction and tone, patients and staff come up with the ideas, and managers support them to deliver these together. Those who object to the change being proposed have the opportunity to discuss it and put the alternative case forward. Ultimately, the majority will decide. Encouraging an open, enquiring culture that is always seeking to improve practice is the best possible way for the NHS to become safer and more compassionate for patients and the vast majority of staff.

It isn’t easy always to be open to change, but we should all be learning and improving continuously.

I’m leading the Time to Change initiative for NHS Change Day. This video explains why – the key bit is from 3 mins 20 seconds. I hope it explains why I feel so strongly about change and in particular, reducing the stigma of mental illness within the NHS.

Thank you.