NI health service meltdown

My mother, a sprightly, energetic, vibrant woman in her 70s, was diagnosed with cancer in the midst of the health workers strike.

Everyone she has dealt with in the last few weeks on this journey from nurses to doctors to consultants so far have been absolute heroes.

Our NHS is a godsend and we are so lucky to have a plethora of amazing, experienced workers keeping us all safe and healthy.

But it is a health system buckling under the pressure, it is clear that it is in critical condition and that is why this health workers strike had to happen.

Today will see a 24-hour period of all-out industrial action by health service workers, with even paramedics joining nurses and other healthcare workers in unprecedented strike action.

I guess if you’re looking at it from the outside, driving past the strikers on the picket line outside the hospitals while you are going about your day to day business, it might not seem like a big deal. But to the people who find themselves on the inside of the hospital, or by the beds of their loved ones, or waiting for life changing test results, it is certainly panic inducing.

On a rainy Wednesday afternoon two weeks ago we passed that picket line on the way to mum’s consultation at Altnagelvin Hospital. I’ll admit I barely registered the placards as my mind was solely focused on my mum.

In the consultation room, we were told that a CT scan and biopsy had in fact picked up cancer and that she needed to have surgery and further tests to determine if it had spread due to more suspicious lumps elsewhere. We were told that a meeting about mum’s case had been cancelled because of the strike.

As we drove out of the hospital — shellshocked by what had just entered our lives — I noticed the picket line. I noticed the placards. I noticed a few politicians standing alongside the health workers having their picture taken. It took all my will power not to get out of the car and urge them in the strongest possible terms to get back to work.

The rest of the day and week was a blur. We were fast-tracked into the breast clinic for further cancer tests, told we should have an appointment before the weekend.

Whether strike action or other circumstances in the hospital made it so, we didn’t get in to get these tests done for a further week and now have to wait another week for results.

Yesterday we arrived at the hospital for her surgery. We got into a lift with a group of nurses.