patients

Don’t be mean*

In my blog last week, I mentioned that my next one might be contentious. This is it.

Tonight, Health Service Journal (HSJ) have announced their inaugural list of Patient Leaders.

I am stunned to be on it. Plus a little bit anxious and also prouder than I have felt for a long time. Here’s why.

I’ve been on a few lists in my time. I remember the first one of influential women in the NHS. Some of us got a bit of stick for that, as did HSJ – “What about the influential men?” came the cry. Take a look at the top of the NHS, and you will see why there is a need for a list with just women on it. Even more so for Black and Minority Ethnic NHS leaders. Hats off to @NHS_Dean who has been open about changing his mind recently regarding quotas on Boards. It’s not too late to join him.

There are many other reasons why such lists can cause controversy. One is that they seem to include all the obvious people, who have reached positions of influence “just” by the nature of their jobs. Who have apparently been in the right place at the right time. Whose mistakes haven’t yet caught up with them. Or who are lucky enough to have a face that “fits”.

I’ve been there and even made such remarks. And I know that, although doing so might have made me feel better about not being on some list or another myself, it also introduced a tiny chip of meanness into my heart which I then had to work very hard to eradicate. Or it risked undermining me and any future good I might bring to bear.

To the people who are feeling mean about this latest list, I say this. Yes, some of the names on it may seem obvious to you. But only they know the personal cost of being there. And yes, there may be some, me included, who are relatively late entrants to the patient leadership world. But that doesn’t make them, even me, unworthy, nor does it in any way diminish the extraordinary contribution of those who have been doing this labour of love for much longer than the rest of us.

Being a member of an exclusive, perhaps even excluded club may feel good, especially one whose purpose has been to act as a ginger group. But patient leaders are doing work that is too important to remain on the outside looking in. One day, and I don’t think it will be all that long, we will see experts by experience appointed into paid leadership roles right across the NHS and care system, as a matter of course. We must of course protect their independence. But we must also stop seeing them as an optional, expensive, fortunate and patronised extra.

There is nothing I did throughout my 41 year NHS career that was harder than sharing my own experiences of mental illness, facing up to going back to work after my last episode of depression, and then retiring, I hope with dignity, to forge a new career as a writer and mental health campaigner. I know it will have been equally hard for others to have followed their personal, not always chosen, path.

So let us warmly thank EVERY patient and carer leader for the courage, wisdom, creativity and generosity they bring to improve our less than perfect, still beautiful, deeply precious NHS. And to all those on tonight’s list, here’s to you. I feel humbled to have joined your extraordinary ranks.

*With thanks to the extraordinary Kate Bornstein, whose philosophy on life is “Do whatever it takes to make your life more worth living. Just don’t be mean.”

 

What goes on at conference doesn’t stay at conference

This week, NHS folk (patients, policy makers, clinicians, managers) gather in Liverpool for the NHS Confederation Conference. I’ve been to quite a few in my time. Here are my tips for getting the most from this annual NHS jamboree.

  1. Treat the event like a great art gallery or music festival. Don’t try to see and do everything. Be choosy, and give the things you choose your undivided attention.
  2. Travel with an open mind. Be prepared to learn new things and to unlearn old ones. If you only seek out sessions or speakers that you think will confirm your views, you will waste your time and the money of whoever has paid for you to go.
  3. Some people need no encouragement to network. But if you aren’t confident about bounding up to Simon Stevens or Jeremy Hunt with an outstretched paw, don’t worry. Practice by saying hullo to people who look like you feel – perhaps a bit lost or lonely. And remember what Dale Carnegie said: You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years trying to get other people interested in you.
  4. When meeting new people, try to be neither boastful, facetious or enigmatic. If they ask you what you do, tell them. Self deprecation is good, but only if you mean it.
  5. Dress for comfort AND style. These are not mutually exclusive. And ladies, remember that hobbling about in heels that may be causing you permanent disability is not a good look.
  6. Don’t be a killjoy. If you get invited, go to the conference dinner. This is where you will get to mingle with very senior people once the pudding has been served. I’m expecting some serious selfie action from NHS management trainee chums.
  7. Burn the midnight oil if you must. But never forget you are at work. Even if someone makes you an offer you feel you cannot refuse, say No. What goes on at conference does NOT stay at conference.
  8. Take breaks. Go for a walk. Have a rest in your room. Do shopping or emails or visit Tate Liverpool or watch triathletes training in the dock. Drink coffee. But stay focussed on why you are there. The NHS is in desperate need of radical change. We are relying on people like you to work out the two or three things that will make the most difference, and then to deliver them. So you need to be in good shape.
  9. Be kind. You may see folk who you know are having a hard time. Please don’t avoid them. Some of us older hands worry that, despite all the talk about compassion, the NHS has become less compassionate, with considerable focus on inspection, compliance and performance but insufficient attention to recovery, development and improvement. And we have jettisoned most of the architecture that helped senior people to step aside with dignity when circumstances required this. The best you can do is say hullo to people working in very tough places, and listen if they seem angry or frightened. You never know, one day, this could be you.
  10. Bring back stories. I remember one year Roy Lilley started his session with the sound of an unanswered phone ringing while he did a voiceover about being a worried relative. He went on to demonstrate an inadequate vacuum cleaner, dropped it off the front of the stage, introduced us to a new bagless vacuum cleaner, and brought on then little-known James Dyson to chat about quality. He ended with a duet with his brother on keyboards. It was fabulous. This year I highly recommend Alison Cameron at 9.30 on Friday morning. I will be watching online as she reminds confetence why we all do what we do.

You can prepare by following some great NHS people on Twitter. I’ve already mentioned @allyc375. Here’s a few more: @WhoseShoes, @NHSConfed_RobW, @NHSE_Danny, @ChrisCEOHopson, @Saffron_Policy, @HPIAndyCowper, @Crouchendtiger7, @HSJEditor, @SamanthaJNHS, @antonytiernan, @anna_babic, @DrBruceKeogh, @JaneMCummings, @helenbevan, @jackielynton, @DrUmeshPrabhu, @JamesTitcombe, @NHS_Dean, @KarenLynas2012, @yvonnecoghill1, @2020Health, @Damian_Roland, @BCHBoss, @nickyruneckles, @paulfarmermind, @KMiddletonCSP. Of course there are many more wonderful NHS folk on Twitter, but the ones on this list are definitely at the conference this year. Please seek them out and say hi, and send best wishes from me. And expect a warm welcome back.

I recommend that you follow the conference chair @tweeter_anita. I hope she will mention her stunning new book Sophia, the biography of a forgotten Indian Princess who became a suffragette. It has reminded me that keeping quiet and toeing the line never got anything important done. And causes me to wonder how it can be that in 2015, with NHS staff being 70% women and 20% BME, Anita was left to interview 6 white men who are, collectively, in charge of NHS commissioning, public health, regulation and training. I’m not criticising the incumbents, just the system that perpetuates this shocking lack of diversity at the top. All the more reason to dig deep and support the statue Mary Seacole, which will commemorate not only Mary, but all women and BME people who have dedicated their lives to caring for the sick and wounded.

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Please support the Mary Seacole statue appeal http://wp.me/P4ZnZz-3Y

So listen hard, make some noise, have fun and be kind. I hope you have a wonderful conference.

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With thanks to @MarkAxcell for the lovely poster.

 

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.
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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

 

 

Let’s stop being mean about people who are fat

This is an update on a blog I wrote earlier this year. I’m reprising it because of the fuss this week about Public Health England’s report into obesity and the Prime Minister’s apparent refusal to consider a possible tax on sugar.

Fat-shaming is a recent phenomenon. People who do it include doctors, nurses, NHS managers, politicians, journalists, comedians and ordinary folk like you and me. And it is weird, because according to statistics, over 60% of us in the UK fall into the category of people being vilified for our weak will, stupidity, greediness and for costing a lot of money in unnecessary healthcare.

I write as one who has done it as well as had it done to me.

I always liked the beach

I always liked the beach

Here’s me as a baby. Fully breastfed, I grew bigger than my tiny mother almost before I could walk. I take after my father. I am robust. I love my food.

Humans are built for survival. Some are wiry and can run fast for long distances. Others have staying power. In an emergency situation, chunky people like me can cope with cold and hunger because we can survive on our fat stores. We are the polar bears and the Arctic seals of the human race.

But our modern Western world has played havoc with these survival characteristics. As long as you have money, food is plentiful. The least nutritious, most fattening sorts of food are often the cheapest. And the combination of sugar, fat and salt in many processed foods such as cakes, biscuits, chocolate, ice-cream, crisps, milkshakes and even bread is, apparently, addictive.

This Ted Talkthis Ted Talk is enlightening. It helped me understand why losing weight is so hard. When you have gained weight, your body quickly adapts to being bigger, and adjusts your metabolism accordingly. Resetting the metabolic rate is extremely difficult. Once you have lost weight, you will probably have to eat fewer calories for the rest of your life to maintain your reduced size, even with regular, vigorous exercise. So you are fighting not only an addiction, but also your own nature.

And there is another factor. Many modern medications, particularly those used to treat various sorts of mental illness, have the unfortunate side effect of increasing one’s appetite. People taking them find they feel hungry all the time, and not surprisingly they eat more. I finished my antidepressants six months ago. Yet I have at least half a stone to shift, and despite extensive motivation and knowledge, it is proving a struggle. I know from chatting to others how distressing it is to gain four or five stone very quickly, with all the disability and stigma that goes with being overweight to add to the burden of the mental illness for which you have to keep taking the medication that leads to the weight gain.

I know people who have been to the doctor and been encouraged to lose weight. And then they buy a newspaper and are told that if they also buy a monster size bar of chocolate (which contains more calories than they need to eat in a whole day but no protein, vitamins or roughage) the newspaper will be free. If it were cigarettes or drugs, we would be horrified.

Given the cost to the NHS of obesity, with its links to heart disease, strokes, Type 2 diabetes, cancer, arthritis and other long-term disabling conditions, not to mention depression, anxiety and agoraphobia linked to body image and self worth, you would think that investing in prevention and effective treatments for obesity would be the place to start.

There is mention of this in the NHS Five Year Forward View. But until this week, there has been no systematic appraisal of the best ways to help people achieve and maintain a healthy weight, nor is there a coordinated, evidence-based commissioning approach to weight-loss and healthy weight maintenance services. Public Health England have produced a report about sugar, but we have learned this week that it has been witheld. Who knows what the real story is about who did this? I don’t really care. I just know that leaving obesity to individuals to tackle is unfair, ineffective and helps mo-one but the commercial giants who sell us all the stuff we don’t need.

Our current attitude to obesity is bizarre. Let’s tackle the food giants who push processed junk food at us from every direction possible. Let’s publish the economic appraisal to prove that helping people rather than criticising and lecturing them would in the end save a lot of money and even more unhappiness.And most of all, let’s stop blaming people for doing what comes naturally.

 

Ignore Russell Brand and vote for mental health

I start by declaring an interest. I really like The Right Honourable Norman Lamb. He knows his stuff on mental health. His values are sound, and he is an unassuming, witty and extremely kind man. He has also been dealing with distressing family issues and still managed to maintain focus on his job as Minister of State for Care and Support. Senior staff at NHS England such as Professor Sir Bruce Keogh vouch for him “holding our feet to the fire on mental health.”

Yet I became tetchy on reading the Liberal Democratic manifesto mental health promises yesterday. It feels a bit rich that a party that has been in power for a full parliamentary term, albeit as a junior partner in a coalition, should be making promises now after 5 years of not making these things happen.

My supporting evidence:

  • I:4 of us will be mentally ill in any one year, according to the Mental Health Foundation. Yet mental health services are still the poor relation within the NHS family, missing out on new money and bearing the brunt when public sector “efficiencies” are required, as they have been during the last parliament. Under the coalition, this imbalance has grown measurably worse. The funding promises made in yesterday’s Lib Dem manifesto will to some extent redress the balance – but only if they come to fruition.
  • I will need persuasion to believe that we will see this money, given the promises made in 2010 not in the last Lib Dem manifesto, but after the coalition government was formed. I was chairing the Mental Health Network of the NHS Confederation at the time, and was invited to speak at the launch of the coalition’s mental health strategy alongside Mr Lamb’s predecessor Paul Burstow. We felt excited and optimistic that parity of esteem between physical and mental health services was being promised at the start of the new parliament and ahead of any other health announcements. What happened?
  • Children’s mental health services, one of the top priority areas in the manifesto, are in a state of particular crisis. This is because of cuts to local authority funding of front-line services in schools and those provided by the third sector, reductions to NHS community services, substantial increases in referrals linked in part to the downturn but also modern pressures felt by young people. There has been near-chaos in the commissioning of these services arising from changes to the NHS and Social Care Act, which although a Conservative-led initiative which they now admit was a mistake, could have been halted or at least improved by the Lib Dems. One of the most troubling outcomes is that sick children now wait regularly in police cells while desperate clinicians and managers scour the country for a suitable hospital bed. Staff are overwhelmed, and parents are desperate. Given that 75% of mental illnesses start, as mine did, before the age of 18, and that early intervention is now known to make such a difference, this situation is not only cruel, it is also extremely short-sighted.
  • According to W Edwards Deming, if you don’t measure, you can’t manage. Mental health services have been crying out for a commissioning currency so they aren’t expected to respond to infinite levels of demand under open-ended block contracts. They need national benchmarks, targets and some form of payment by results, otherwise bids for increased funding will continue to be trumped by those for diseases such as cancer or heart disease, where there are a wealth of measurements. This was promised by the last Labour government in 2005 and by the coalition in 2010. It appears again in this manifesto; if the Lib Dems help to form the next coalition, will we be third time lucky?

Here are Royal College of Psychiatrists’ President Professor Sir Simon Wessely and Time to Change ambassador Alastair Campbell explaining why in their view, when it comes to mental illness and mental health care and support, government actions speak louder than words.

It’s not just the 1:4 of us who experience mental illness who should carefully consider these promises and those made by each of the other political parties. 4:4 of us will be voting on May 7th, or rather, we have the right to vote that others have died to get for us. This will apparently be the closest election in a lifetime. We have the greatest ever diversity of candidates. If we don’t each exercise our democratic right, we risk allowing those more certain than us about matters as important as mental health to decide who will run the country.

According to pundits, the outcome of the election is likely to be another coalition with at least two parties. This time, whoever forms the new government, I intend to make a fuss right from the beginning about funding and evidence-based support for mental health services. The more of us who do, the more they will realise that we mean business.

The recent dog-whistle headlines about the aircrash co-pilot show that we have a way to go in tackling the stigma of mental illness. So please ignore Russell Brand and vote; being disenfranchised would be really bad for our mental health.

 

 

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.