...And Then the Stupid GP Proved Me Right (Again)

Following on from my previous rant laden post regards the NHS and their attitude towards woman, I wanted to update you on the latest farce. It seems it's not just woman but anyone who fancies asking the NHS to actually do anything, at all.

About 12 weeks ago, I asked for Littlest to be re-referred to his lovely Consultant. He hasn't seen him for about 2 years, and we were hoping we wouldn't need to see him again as we would have assumed that the District Asthma Clinic could be sufficient.

Why, why on earth, going on previous experience, did I think that? I actually could kick myself.

The thing is, Littlest has the same inhalers he has always had. They simply do not do the same thing as they used to do. His Blue, Ventolin Inhaler is supposed to work to put a halt to the times when he finds it hard to brave without coughing. Despite giving him up to ten puffs at once (which is supposed to act like being on a nebuliser when used with his spacer device), it does absolutely nothing to relieve it at all.

As for the Brown Preventer, well, we may as well not bother with it for all the use it is- think making a brew with a chocolate tea pot.

We have begged and pleaded with his GPs, and the frankly slappable Asthma Nurse (who bad mouthed me for using the correct spacer as given to us by his Consultant and backed up by the GP) to do something, anything, to try and limit the effect his illness has. He is having more and more time off school, which means we had the bloody Welfare Education Officer trying to interfere (she got told where to go until she can suggest a cure for his illness- that soon shut her up).

It also means that Littlest's behaviour is getting beyond a joke. He runs at me on occasion, fists raised, and he gets so angry. Which in turn then makes him get out of breath and cough lots. Its the lack of sleep that causes a lot of it, the same as I am constantly knackered and could happily nod off by 7pm every night as I'm just so sleepy.

The thing is, we know of other families attached to the same GP, who have children of similar age with the condition, and they are forever trying different meds on them. Littlest, meanwhile, just doesn't exist.

Now, because the Cretinous GP and his shoddy and brain dead Secretary know they have messed up, by asking the Consultant to see Littlest about his allergies, rather than his cough, they are now trying to skirt round the fact it is there fault this mess has occurred and are trying to pass the blame to me.

How on earth they can blame me for their immense cock up is anyone's guess. As you'll remember, if you read the previous post, firstly I was told I hadn't been clear enough on what I wanted him to be seen for (so telling the GP I wanted him to be seen as his inhalers don't work any more and I want him, for the first time ever since SCBU, to be monitored overnight is clearly not plain English enough for him).

When that didn't work, they lied and told him I was very unhappy with his original help (bollocks) and I wanted a second opinion.

Which, correct me if I'm wrong, but a second opinion from the same person who voiced the original opinion clearly does not work. And why on earth would I want to go back to someone that I didn't have faith in to the point I would want a second opinion? It just doesn't make sense.

So now, as the previously OK Consultant is now sulking (like a bitch) thinking we have been all mean about him (diddums), he wont see Littlest.

Great stuff. God knows where we turn to next. 

Which leads me onto epic cock up number 2 from the same surgery.

In the same post I mentioned how I felt the female GP I had hoped would show some female solidarity was an utter cow and had, in my opinion, ignored me, but that I awaited to see how much she had ignored me when my referral for a Gynaecological investigation came through.

It came through today.

Is it for the female Gynaecologist who I mentioned I wanted to see, for the simple, non-sexist reason that, frankly, my Lady Garden is my own and it's quite up to me who I give an audience to?

No, is it buggery.

It's for the same bloody pissing male one who I asked, begged and pleaded not to see last time, then twiddled my thumbs waiting for a new appointment to switch to his female peer, gave up and went to the bitch of woman GP to ask her to resend my referral. 

I hate to be proved right, I really do. Why have I wasted the last week odd waiting patiently to see who the referral was to? I knew, I just flaming knew before I left that office, shaking and upset, that she had ignored me. That she had some bloody issue with me, you know, how dare I, wanting to use what is my right as a patient to voice that I wanted to see a fellow woman rather than a man. 

So, now it all starts again. I have to phone up the hospital and cancel, and hope they don't forget why I've cancelled (or forget I've cancelled at all) and yet again send some snotty letter to my GP. I then have to wait for an appointment with another GP at the surgery. I wont be allowed an Emergency appointment, as the Gates of Hell otherwise known as the desk Secretaries wont allow me to (they ask what you want, and before you tell me you don't need to tell them, the last time I refused, telling them it was naff all of their business, they made me take an appointment for three weeks later), so I will need to wait at least a week and half, if not two, for a standard appointment. I will then have to wait two weeks (if not more- after all, we're at the 9 week mark for Littlest's referral with no conclusion or appointment in sight) for the letter for an appointment, and then over a month (at least) for an actual appointment, if anyone actually listens and books it with a bloody woman.

This, this is why the NHS is in crisis.

Why in Christ's name they cannot get their heads around simple admin is beyond me? Its to the point where I am close to requesting to write my own bloody referrals, getting them stamped by the GP and then handing them in at the required hospital, getting an acknowledgement of receipt while I'm there. 

If they actually did it the first time, rather than having to go back and forth, sending out new referrals for the same thing at least 3 times before you get anywhere, they'd save a bundle.

I can't be the only one wondering why I bother even seeing a GP, when I know, full well, from years of experience that they do naff all however much you beg and plead.

Right to Chose Bill- How Do You Feel?

The top news story on the TV this morning (before Diane Abbott tweeted her sweeping and racist generalisation about white people) was the committee exploring the case for assisted suicide in terminally ill patients.


It's something that divides opinion in most people, with the yes vote insisting a person has a right to choose and the no vote saying that its not assisting someone to die but murdering them.

Feeling a Bit, well, Bleugh, Actually

You know the times when you've been on such a high for weeks, eagerly anticipating a night out or similar? Then it comes and the day after you're just, well, bleugh?

Yeah, that.

20SomethingMum Backs Dettol's Mission for Health Campaign!

You may have noticed on Facebook or Twitter recently that myself and a few of my fellow bloggers (including Me The Man and The Baby, Glowstars, Dance Without Sleeping (formerly New Mummy), Mum In The Madhouse and Adventures of an English Mum who just happened to have her lovey daughter with her too!) mentioning that we were off to London, and we were going to stop off at The Baby Show.

Well, that wasn't all we did whilst there- we fibbed a bit!

In fact, we met up in a house in leafy Highgate to find out all about Dettol's Mission For Health campaign.

Firstly, have a watch of this video of BBC Health Expert Dr Lisa Ackerley who will show you some of what we you what we learnt on the day:

Its simple really, but we're all guilty of health and hygiene crimes- perhaps you don't keep all your raw meats separate  from your cooked meats and veggies. Perhaps you don't always watch to make sure the kids are washing their hands properly. Or perhaps like me, you get sometimes get distracted half way through cutting raw chicken, and make a drink for the kids without first washing your hands? We've all done something which sounds obvious but in practice just doesn't spring to mind when the children are throwing their fiftieth tantrum of the day and we're tired and harassed!

With this in mind, Dettol’s Mission for Health launches today to promote a healthier environment in the home, in the community and beyond. Through three easy to get involved with initiatives- Dettol’s new mums programme, healthy habits lessons in schools and through its partnership with Save the Children, Dettol aims to educate from the home, to schools, and beyond that healthy habits are easy to keep up! 

Adventure's of an English Mum's daughter learns about hidden germs

At home, Mum's are encouraged to visit their easy to use and informative new website www.dettol.co.uk/missionforhealth  as well as "liking" their dedicated Facebook page www.facebook.com/missionforhealth. The tips and handy hits contained at both sites will help mums by suggesting ways to do more for a healthy home, highlighting hygiene hotspots to be aware of and useful tips to help take care of the family. Even things which when we heard them at the open day seemed so obvious, yet more than one of us admitted to being guilty of at home-like not keeping handbags on the table or kitchen worktop. Wont be doing that again soon!

Dr Lisa shows us the hidden germ hot spots around a kitchen

 

We also had the pleasure of meeting well known Health expert, Dr Dawn Harper, of channel 4’s ‘Embarrassing Bodies’ fame, who for once wasn't getting her hands in anything too scary, as well as Prima Baby’s expert midwife Nikki Khan. All gave us informative chats and advice from pregnancy and beyond, and taught us all about the dangers of germs and the effects they can have on our health, and that of our children too. They are all supporting the campaign, and will be giving the same practical advice on how mums can improve hygiene at home especially for those mums expecting or bringing home a new baby, requiring them to be especially vigilant in the home.

Prima Baby's Midwifery Expert Nikki Khan tells us about the effect of germs in pregnancy

For those who love a competition, The Mission for Health Facebook page will also offer the opportunity to win one of 5,000 Dettol Baby Packs containing useful tips on getting ‘your home baby ready’, helping new mums be extra vigilant in the home.  The pack also includes vouchers for money off Dettol Surface Cleanser Spray and Dettol No-Touch Hand Wash System.   

An even better excuse to like the Mission for Health Facebook page is that Dettol will donate 20 pence to Save the Children for every like they receive, with the aim of donate £20,000 to the charity which supports community causes in the UK and abroad.
 

Talking about family health, Dr Harper comments: “Mums are naturally eager to do their best for their family, to keep them happy and healthy.  But with our hectic lifestyles, standards may slip! How many of us mums know our kitchen floor or bathroom taps are not cleaned as often as we like? Even our computer keyboards could do with a good anti-bacterial wipe!”

“Dettol’s Mission for Health will help mums take back control, by suggesting quick and easy ways to keep their homes hygienic, helping to protect their family’s health and advising them on the tools to do it.  By going online they can find out information about hygiene hotspots in the home, and healthy living advice for the family and in particular first time mums.”

What better way to find information on keeping our children in a healthy environment than by turning off Twitter during our tea breaks and logging into the Dettol website instead?

  Want to join in? Well, here are some tips- they may seem obvious, but I bet we all slip up on them fro time to time-       

• Regularly disinfect commonly touched surfaces as some harmful germs can survive on surfaces for longer periods, which can then be transferred to other surfaces in sufficient numbers, representing a risk to catch them and develop an infection 
• Use a surface cleanser with proven efficacy to kill 99.9% of harmful germs including E.coli, Salmonella, MRSA and the flu virus  
• Practice good hand hygiene; wash hands regularly with an antibacterial hand wash and dry thoroughly.  
• If soap and water are not available, use a hand sanitizer. There are many gel and foam varieties available for use while out and about Practice good cough and sneezing etiquette - always cover your nose and mouth with a tissue and dispose of immediately 
• Avoid touching your mouth, nose and eyes with your hands. This will reduce your chances of getting infected  

Remember, if you follow these tips, your children will also learn good hygiene sense from you, like sneezing into a tissue and washing their hands regularly, helping to keep the message of Mission for health going for years to come.

To join Dettol’s Mission for Health or for more information come to www.dettol.co.uk/missionforhealth or go direct to www.facebook.com/missionforhealth to join!    

 

It's My Body and I'll Mess With It If I Want To....

I have just got back from a trip to the GP.

I have to say at this point, as by the end of this post you may think I don't, but I think my GP, Dr S is lovely. Absolutely the best Doc I have ever had, and trust me, I've gone through a few! 

Yes, I was saying I was at the Docs this evening, and no, its nothing serious, I'm quite OK, but it seems I may have PCOS. Which there's not much I can do about, and nor can the Docs, its to do with diet and hormone, and anyway I wont bore you.

But whilst I was there, I thought the perfect solution to my PCOS issues was to ask for a sterilisation. 

This, though, appears to be a dirty word in the NHS.

This isn't the first time I've brought the idea up. When I had had Littlest, and he was so ill, I straight away made an appointment with Dr S, who referred me, yet I never received an appointment.

Why?

Well, of course I asked the Doc, as I thought maybe the referral had been missed, or they had forgotten to send me an appointment. 

It seemed not- the hospital had sent my GP surgery a letter, very standard issue and not in anyway personal to me, I don't think it mentioned me by name apart from on the top of the letter as RE: C Curran. Elsewise they'd have had no idea who it was in reference to.

It went on to say that they had received the docs letter, but due to my age (27), and the fact I wasn't married, that it was not felt "appropriate" to offer me an appointment. They didn't even send this rubbish note to me personally, and it had no right of appeal or question to it. It was a big fat No.

The thing is, I have 2 children, who I adore, don't get me wrong. Howver, 2 is fine by me. I am happy with that nice round number, I really can, hand on heart say I don't want anymore. Not now, not ever. 

Elder already has an older child too, so he's quite happy with my decision. We may not be married, but we may as well be after 11 years!

The biggest issue is how ill both Littlest and Mini were- Mini was crushed because of a medical condition internally which we didn't know I had until I was having a section- in fact if I hadn't wimped out and tried to give birth naturally, she would have been seriously hurt or worse. Then obviously, Littlest was born at 28 weeks, and spent 4 months in SCBU, and still has underlying health problems now. Again, this was down to me and my health problems. 

I don't think it would be fair to risk another ill child- we've been lucky that both have got through it, but it doesn't mean that our luck would continue. 

Privately, the idea of more babies or children fills me with horror- I have no sleep, no privacy, am constantly busy picking up and cleaning up after the two we have, as soon as one has new clothes and shoes, its a matter of weeks before the other needs new clothes and shoes. They fight like cat and dog, Littlest does nothing but scream all day and seems to think sleep doesn't apply to him personally, and is up every 20 minutes at the moment. I physically don't feel I could do it all again with another child. That may seem selfish, but surely its better to say "yes, love my children, love kids in general, but hell if I have another one I'll have a nervous breakdown" than to go on having children who I can't mentally handle? 

However, even a Doc who remarked at how pale, tired and ill I look (when I'm feeling fine!) will still cut no dice with the Hospital mafia. He has written again, but told me that if I was married and 35, they may say yes. At 29 and unmarried, even with an 11 year relationship, health issues, ill children, premature births and PCOS, they will still more than likely send that standard letter again.

So, really, that means that, whilst this is my body, and if I was an over eater they would offer me a Gastric band, smokers can smoke as much as they like without consequence from the NHS, and a teenager can go have an abortion like its a new version of contraception. Yet me, mother of 2, partner of 11 years, of sound mind an half working body cannot make my own decision. They wont even give me a personal letter, or right of argument on it. 

Hardly seems fair, really.

Image: luigi diamanti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Atkins and Other Food Related Issues

Yes, I am back. Sorry I have been slightly quiet, but the new house seems to have taken over my life at the minute, and of an evening all I want to do is lie on the couch and watch Friends re-runs.

But, here I am again with an update.

Mini's room is now all but finished, only the wood work is left to do now, and regardless of my new found decorating skills I am still banned from touching anything near the carpet. 

I was also, shockingly, allowed to paint the entire front room, I say shockingly because Elder had previously banned me from painting anywhere where guests would see. But after seeing the skilled job I made of Min's room, he has now decided that I have made it look like I was crap at decorating to get out of doing any for ten years. 

I however argued that, actually, I was crap ten years ago, but after watching a master at work such as him for that ten year period, I have obviously learnt from his skills. (Insert canned laughter here!).

But, the newest news is that I am back on the scary New Year diet.

Yes, my resolution to lose weight and drop two dress sizes failed miserably by March. In fact, such was my failure I went up a dress size instead. Doh!

And now I 'm actually bothered by it. 

Previously I didn't care, but well, I don't feel healthy at the moment. I feel unfit, slovenly, crap. And when I have two kids as active as mine, its just not good.

Therefore, I am doing something I tried prior to Mini. 

Atkins.

Yes, I know it gets a bad press, but it does work. If you actually read the book, it does say that stuff like spuds and pasta are things which will make you put on weight. But it doesn't say to cut them completely.

Unfortunately, due to hype, people do think that's the idea, and that's when you get the stinky breath, awful farts and fainting fits that are the common side affects moaned about.

What I did last time, and which worked well for me, was to cut out carbs in the week, then eat what I wanted at the weekend. I also cut out sweets and tried to drink less milk, and coffee too.

So, instead of eating chicken and chips, I would substitute chips for plain boiled rice. Instead of coffee, I drank loads of water.

I had to go on a diet at that stage- I had suffered from high blood pressure due to stress at the time (mostly the stress of not getting pregnant), and I tend to comfort eat when I am stressed. 

But by following the practices above, I went from an unfit, spotty size 14/16 to a clear skinned, healthy size 10, in about 3 months.

I don't really want to get to a size 10 again, I think after two children that's unrealistic. And I think setting a goal which you can get to is half the battle too.

Instead, I'd be happy with a size 12. But I wll do it slowly, and get more exercise, which is where living at the top of a hill is always handy, and hopefully I can do it by Christmas. 

I really don't want to be the Mummy who looks like a whale getting into the swimming pool. I also hate my spotty complex, and think I have started growing bingo wings too. Eugh.

So, Sushi and rice, and grilled chicken, here I come.

JOIN IN- Campaign for Better Complaints Procedures on Pre/Post Natal Wards

I am writing this in support of Its a Mummy's Life's brilliant blog and discussion at BMB (note if you're not a member you will need to sign up first to see the discussion, but its well worth it!). And for all those who commented with their truly shocking experiences. Its going to be a long post, so apologies!

The jist of the post and discussion was that she had had an absolutely appalling time when she had her first (beautiful) daughter due to the lack of staff, advice and the rudeness of the staff on the Post Labour ward.

I can sympathise.

I had an awful time of it with both my labours.

With Mini, I had an Elective Section for medical reasons. When I made the decision to go for an elective over natural, it wasn't just that I had medical reasons, to me it was the knowledge that I would know when and how my child would be born, and would not wet myself with fear! I could prepare for it.

On the 5th April 2007, I went into Medway Hospital, as we were living in Kent still, at 7am, all psyched up and ready (and starving hungry as you can't eat or drink after 10pm the night before).

I was told to go have a shower and stick some surgical clothing on, and they would be with my shortly.

At 8.30am, I was all ready- Elder (still known as Ed at the time as there was only one Ed in the house!) had got the camera ready, the birthing CD all there, and so we sat and waited.

And waited....

And waited.

By 9.30am, I was a little concerned, as no one had popped back since the Midwife who had told me to go get showered and changed at 7.15.

I thought I'd better wait, after all, I thought, Maternity Wards are busy.

But after another hour had gone by, I rang the buzzer.

A different Mdwife came over. I was polite, just enquired as to what was happening. She barked at me that I was 3rd on the list, and as an Emergency situation may be about to arise, I'd be waiting even longer. She honestly made me feel like one of those Gym Slip 13 year old Mums to be, and was condescending in the extreme. I felt like I was being a pain in the backside, when I think considering it had taken me 3 hours to speak up I was being very kind!

At 12pm, I was near tears. Elder was starving himself, but felt rotten going to get a cuppa or a sandwich as I couldn't eat. There was still no one keeping me informed. I had started to panic, even saying to Elder that I thought they'd forgotten me. He laughed it off, but I wasn't far off.

At 2pm, little did I know at the time that the staff do a Change Over, where a new set of staff come in, and are briefed by the old lot, so the ward becomes a ghost town for staff as they all disappear for 45 minutes into a little room off the ward. God knows what would've happened if a Mum to be had gone into full labour, or had collapsed for another reason-we were all on that ward for special reasons due to health or breech issues- as they'd never have heard us ringing the buzzer.

At 3pm, I had seriously got the hump. I asked Elder to go over to the desk, and asked to know what the hell was going on, and even said to say that if they were too busy I'd go home and come back in a few days.

He was ignored and stood there for ages while she continued what was obviously a personal call, and finally was glared at by the desk Midwife. She was very uninterested in him telling her I'd been there since 7am and had seen two people in all that time, was starving hungry and had had enough. She just asked who I was, and what bed I was in. When he told her, she told him (like he was daft), that I had already gone, and was probably in recovery, and showed him my name crossed off on the board.

Now, Elder is NOT one to mince his words- he worked in a Hospital for a few years, and couldn't believe how badly this ward was being run. He pointed out that he had just left me, crying, in bed, on their ward. My name, apparently, hadn't even been mentioned at the Change Over.

She assured him someone would be up shortly.

At 5pm, guess what? Yep, still sat there, still no one coming over, still losing the will to deliver a child at all, and feeling sick with hunger and dehydrated with thirst (the ward we were on, in April and in heat had its heating on full blast). So Elder had to make a call to a neighbour, as we still had the two dogs back then, and bless them, they had been stuck in since we left in the morning. He was gone for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, a Surgeon, with a Folder, came to my bed with no Midwife, just her on her own.

I thought finally! Someone who will tell me what the hells going on, and so I smiled at her and tried to cheer up.

Silly me.

She proceeded to literally shout at me that I was wasting her time, the hospitals time and all the other people waiting patiently for Sections time by changing my mind and messing about. She didn't ask my name, or sit down, she just screeched at me, chucking her file on the end of the bed in temper. She told me I was going down to have the section in the next 5 minutes and that was that. I burst into tears, I couldn't help myself, and asked her to let me wait for Elder, as he was making a call. She didn't even let me finish, just continued to harangue me and said that if he wasn't on the ward in 5 minutes I was giving birth alone.

She then stormed out.

Between sobs, I rang Elder on my mobile, shitting myself that if I was caught with it I'd be in even bigger trouble (although I had no idea why I was in trouble in the first place), and he literally ran up 3 flights of stairs. I was inconsolable, and he'd really had a gutful of how I'd been treated and now spoken to, so he went back over to the desk and demanded an apology.

The same person told him she didn't know what he was going on about, as no one had been to speak to me, least of all a surgeon, and that the second person on the list, the person before me, still hadn't gone to surgery yet.She said she'd find out what was going on.

About half an hour later, another new Midwife, a trainee, came over to explain that the Surgeon had got the wrong person. Still no apology was given. But they did say I should go home as there was little chance of me having my section that day. However, I'd need to eat something before I left, and they wanted to put me on a monitor as "prolonged periods with no food can harm the baby". I quickly pointed out that it hadn't been my choice not to eat, but she laughed my comment off, and went to grab me some toast and juice. Coming back, she plonked the plate of toast on the tray table at the end of the bed, and hooked my tummy up to the monitor, meaning I had to lie back. She then wandered off.

Leaving a plate of warm toast and juice, right where I couldn't reach it, but in eyeline of a person who at that point was so hungry she'd have eaten a pillow case given half a chance. 

Another, older Midwife came in to have a look at the read out after another half hour. She then told me not to eat the toast (not that I could reach anyway), as she thought she spotted contractions. She then said she'd be back in a bit, and that she should go have a word with someone else.

Again, not that shockingly, I was left, this time looking at toast and juice (you'd think she'd have taken them), hooked to a monitor, dying for the toilet, but not wanting to move as I thought I was in labour.

At coming on for 8pm, after over 12 and a half hours of basically sitting for the most part being ignored, or shouted at, and starving hungry, fed up, and deciding that this was the last time I would ever get pregnant, the staff changed over again, so yet again, all the current staff disappeared off the ward, for absolutely ages, leaving a whole ward of women alone.

And yet again, I was forgotten about at Change Over. Even though I was hooked up from 5.30ish to a monitor, and still was by 7.30pm, and the Midwife had been so concerned that I was in the throes of labour that I couldn't eat, and she was just going to get someone at 6.00pm, they forgot me again.

The first I knew about this was when another Midwife went to bring a woman and her husband into my bed space, and asked "why are you in a patients bed?" This was at close to 8.30pm.

Well, that was it.

She didn't even apologise, say she was going to find out what the hell was going on, take me off the monitor or look at my notes, she just wandered off in a world of her own (I think she was actually tutting).

Elder had nipped to the loo, and he came back to find me getting dressed and throwing all my stuff back in a bag.

He told me to calm down, and to wait, but then I really lost it with him too and pointed out I'd been waiting since 7am.

Would you believe, one of the Midwifes who had no idea who I was or the situation came in and told us to behave or she'd chuck us out as we were upsetting the other Mums. I really let her have it, and walked out.

Elder stayed and spoke to the lady who'd asked why I was in a patient's bed, whilst the other one chased me down the corridor telling me I obviously "didn't care" about the safety or health of my child, and called me a "silly little girl".

She frogmarched me back to the ward, and I spotted Elder, telling him I'd had enough and what she'd said to me.

Well, then he really lost it, calling the hospital a disgrace, the staff useless, and telling them that if anyone had put the baby at risk it was them.

The only slightly nicer midwife took us into a private room, and asked a senior surgeon to come and talk to us, and she turned at gone 9pm. She did apologise, but said in her view, I would be putting myself at risk having surgery now, as I was tired and clearly emotional- which she pointed out she realised was far from my fault. She booked me in for the 10th, the earliest space they had available, but warned me I could go into labour as the stress could bring it on.

She left, and I walked back onto the ward to collect my bag, only to be met by the nasty Midwife telling me not to expect anything from the dinner cart if I was going home. Charming.

I finally got home after 10pm, a full 24 hours since I'd eaten anything, or drank even a sip of drink. Elder, if I recall made me sausage and chips, which I wolfed down- and about a whole loaf of bread.

My lovely Midwife, Mo, was disgusted when I told her- do you know they'd had the cheek to tell her to pass on if we caused "trouble" on the ward again and "lied" to the surgeons, they would ban us and make us go to another hospital. 

What made it even worse was that I had no choice but to go back to the same ward and the same Midwives all over again. This time, we took Elders eldest (and possibly scariest) Sister with us, and believe me- she would have kicked their arses if they had of tried it on again. We arrived at 3pm, and when I wasn't called in by 3.30, she demanded to know why! Much bowing and scrapping was done that day!

So, why don't we women make complaints when so many of us get treated lower than cattle when we are doing what should be the most natural, and memorable, event in our lives?

Well, I simply became too busy with breast feeding, recovering from surgery, and generally being a busy new Mummy.

My experience with Littlest led me to suffer Post Natal Depression, as he was born 11 weeks early. This time, it was from the start of my pregnancy that things went wrong. Despite the fact I had moved from Kent to Berkshire and the Consultants and Midwife had no notes from my previous pregnancy and labour, and had made no attempts to get copies sent up,  no one listened that I had had complications with Mini, even though without information from the time before I was their only source of information. Suffice to say that when my premature labour could've been averted, it wasn't. I was in a over crowded ward for a week, from the Monday,as my waters broke early and when I went into labour on the Friday, after being told to report even the littlest contractions, a Midwife told me at 2pm, to go away as I didn't know what contractions were and she was busy. By 6pm, I couldn't stand up, and Littlest was born at 8.19pm. Elder didn't even see him being born, as he had been phoned at 7.45pm, and had to drop Mini off at his Brothers house and then go all the way back to our house (a good ten minute run), to jump in his friends van for a lift (he had to drop Mini off walking as we didn't have a car seat, and even in an emergency he was thinking of her safety). I then waited 14 hours to be handed a picture of Littlest, and had convinced myself he had died in the night and they were waiting for Elder and/or his family to tell me in the morning. I finally got to meet my son, and hold his 3 pound 6 weight an hour shy of 24 hours after his birth.

I saw the Midwife who told me to go away, when Littlest had been in Hospital for 3 and a half of the 4 months he spent in Neo Natal care, and she told me, thinking she was funny "Oh well, its your fault cos you should've told us you were in labour." I wanted to ring her bloody neck.

So, I hope you'll join me in lobbying as many Health professionals and MPs as you can manage.

Its often the case that we go through a terrible time due to poor standard of care, but are too caught up in our new family to make a formal complaint.

So how can this change?

Simple-

I think it is as easy as handing Mums an anonymous questionnaire, asking them to rate different parts of their care and a space to write their own thoughts down. Maybe even a section with names of staff they may have been looked after by to rate them on helpfulness, willingness to  give advice, even their people skills in general- maybe with something as simple as smiley faces to frowns?

These could then be placed in a box in the corridor, and the results be posted monthly on the Hospitals website, and on the ward itself. Those who constantly fall short of the mark could be dealt with appropriately, and I'm sure this would help with staff training, as they would know what they needed to be reminded of.

Let me know your thoughts.