Dear NHS: Get Your Priorities Straight!

I'm not going to lie. I've had more than my fair share of rubbish treatment from the NHS. I'm not an "NHS basher" far from it, and thank my lucky stars I live in a country where I don't have to pay for most of my treatments.

Just recently though, more and more stories have been popping up in the press regards the use of money, which to the NHS is precious, for vanity surgeries.

Take the shocking admission just this weekend of the at least £330,000 the NHS paid out for laser tattoo removal.

I have a tat which I kind of regret now I'm old enough to know better, but I'm wise enough to know that I should not have been hasty to have it done and that it's my own fault and no one forced me. Hence, if I did go down the route of having it removed, which costs thousands, I should quite rightly foot the bill myself.

Tattoos are becoming more and more popular, with people seeming to go all out to ink their selves until you can barely view actual skin. Not to mention the rafts of people who have a relationship for 5 minutes and get a tattoo as an ode to their significant other only to split up within weeks.

So, why should the NHS pay for these mistakes? Simple answer, they shouldn't.

In fact, anyone having a tattoo should be made to sign a form saying that, should they regret said tattoo, its their legal and financial responsibility to pay to have it removed.

We then hear that a patient who the NHS failed, Ashya King, has now had his Proton Beam therapy in Prague, and is making a great recovery.

Why should children like Ashya have to go abroad for decent levels of care and treatment? Yet other's can fancy a boob job (eg Josie Vile Gibson) or regret a Tattoo and the NHS can't wait to step in and pay out?

Ashya's parent's went through hell, were arrested and accused of neglect for taking the best option, remortgaging their home, and running away. They now look justified as Ashya would have no doubt been significantly effected for life had they not, or worse.

I have had to beg and plead with the NHS before now to help us with Littlest. He is 6 and a half and we still, still, do not have a definite diagnosis of his problems. We are pretty much left to fend for ourselves. Then you have the absolutely amazing Young family from my native Kent who are forced to fund raise and scrape as many pounds together to raise £500,000 to send their daughter Ruby to America for life saving treatment.

How do gastric bands, tattoo removal and boob jobs compare to improving and saving the lives of young children? We have postcode lotteries for IVF and cancer drugs, hospital waiting lists that are an embarrassment, yet we can fund idiots who mess up their own bodies and laugh that the NHS will see them right?

Its a national disgrace.

The NHS should seriously get its priorities straight, and stop wasting money on those who don't deserve it.

Parent's Need Love Too: Look After Yourself This Winter

I am writing this post as this week made me realise how rubbish I am at looking after my own health.

As a parent, you often put your own needs second to the kids, the house, the shopping and everything else. Christmas makes it worse as you're busy getting all the presents in.

In our house, we also have Littlest's health to keep an eye on as winter is when he is at his most vulnerable and often needs steroids to make him feel a little more human.

As usual, as soon as the end of the summer came along and the weather became more changeable, I started to get an annoying cough. I get these most times of the year when its chilly, and I just put up with it, save for the odd bottle of cough syrup.

Last year, it took months for my cough to go, and this year has been just as long, but more worryingly, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I also had no other flu or viral symptoms.

In the end, after Mums at the new school commented how long I'd had my cough and how ill I sounded, looking concerned, I made a GP appointment.

My problem is I have never had a good relationship with a GP, I usually feel fobbed off, or worse, feel like they feel I'm a time waster (this was down to one GP who, everytime I would go to see him, he would dismiss me with the argument I over worry things down to having had-not continued to have- depression when Littlest was born). So I avoid going where possible.

I am really pleased though that the new surgery are friendly and treat me with respect. They listen, and they don't expect you to fit into an allotted time for treatment.

It also turns out that I didn't have a simple cough. I have actual asthma.

I've probably had it for quite a while in fact, and I need to take inhalers.
To be fair, it seemed pretty obvious when the GP told me, as the clues were there and I should have picked them up- after all I've looked after Littlest's own lung issues for years!

It does make me peeved a little as I',m probably the healthiest I've been for ages. I have been walking everywhere, I've been eating less and I've dropped from a size 18 to a size 12/14.  I've not been following a faddy diet, I have still been eating chocolate and other things that diets tell you to cut out, just eating less and being sensible.

Its good that I now know as it was getting bloody scary walking and feeling like I was close to collapse.

With that in mind, parent's, carers, make sure you look after your own health this winter, its not being selfish, its being sensible, as if you get really ill you wont be able to look after anyone!

Putting yourself first is fine!

Is It Just Me: That Feels Misogyny Is Rife in the NHS?

Just as I thought I couldn't despise it here more, another little kick in the guts comes along.

As a girl, I prefer, if possible, to see a lady GP about "certain" lady based issues. I can't be the only one who feels that sometimes it can be easier talking to a woman rather than a guy. That's not to say Men as a species have no understanding or sympathy for our lady bits when they go wrong, but, as a result of not having what we have, they probably find it difficult to show empathy.

Up until recently, it's been impossible to see a female GP at my surgery, meaning making an appointment with the Nurse who would then listen to your issues and promptly make an appointment for you to see a male GP. Which would end up with mixed results, depending on if the male read what the Nurse had written or whether they looked embarrassed by you mentioning anything to do with cycles.

However, late last year our surgery suddenly took on a part time female GP. Hallelujah, I thought, no more embarrassment.

It's pretty tough to get an appointment with her though, its a busy surgery, which deals with both NHS and Private patients. Its practically impossible to gain any form of appointment unless you ring from 8.30 or 2pm every day, getting the engaged tone anyway.

After a couple of weeks, I finally got one yesterday for the lady GP.

As I've blogged before, I suffer from Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Its a bane of my life, it really wrecks weeks of each month in varying degrees. It took years to get a firm diagnoses too. I was misdiagnosed a lot of times, due to male GPs who really didn't have a clue what they were doing. It all came to a head when I was misdiagnosed as having appendix that were about to burst. Finally, a more understanding male GP at my surgery (who is by far the best one there), actually took the time to look through my notes, noticing that I get pain on both sides, thus it couldn't be appendicitis. 

On having a scan, I had lots of cysts on both sides- its unusual to have it on both ovaries, but, me being me, and my luck being non-existent, I have them there.

For those who don't have or know about PCOS, it causes all manner of nasty symptoms, everything from heavy and irregular cycles, to excess hair, weight gain (especially around my middle), and depression. I have all of these things down to it, and previously it was why it took 6 years to conceive Mini. 

As I see it, I have done my bit to replenish the world with the Brats. I don't, categorically do not, want anymore children. Neither does Elder. I could have died having Littlest due to the blood poisoning, and he has all manner of health issues for me to deal with down to his prematurity too. I know that having another child, due to other internal issues I have, could very likely result in a baby born even earlier, and their chances of survival would be slim. 

In short, it would be dangerous for a baby and me to even attempt it.

You'd think, then, that when I have asked politely to have the whole lot removed- a hysterectomy as well as having my ovaries removed- the NHS would agree, what with all the above and my PCOS making my life hell for at least 3 out of every 4 weeks of a month?

No, they don't agree.

The thing is, they also cannot give me an alternative solution either.

Which is why I went to see the female GP. I expected a bit of understanding, but no. I got spoken to in the manner of a naughty school girl. She left me feeling really upset. She kept saying she couldn't comment on my past symptoms down to not being aware of my notes, but every time I attempted to enlighten her as to my cause and reasons for having what I know would be a drastic operation, she just spoke over me, never giving me a chance to make my point. She even called me selfish for saying that I really do not need all this possibly until I'm in my 50s and having menopause what with all the health issues that I have to deal with that Littlest has. 

I walked out in shock that a woman could treat another woman so badly. I was in and out in under 5 minutes in the manner of a conveyor belt.

She even told me off regards turning down an appointment with a male gynecologist, saying I hadn't even phoned the hospital to cancel, and how irresponsible of me to waste an appointment. This was actually completely incorrect. I had simply rang and asked them to cancel the appointment and asked instead to be sent an appointment to see the female equivalent. I now know why the appointment never came, as clearly they never updated the system preferring to slag me off for non-attendance. The problem is, I often don't chase my own appointments up down to having to chase so much for Littlest. His illness comes first after all. 

So, instead of going in, having a kind ear, and being allowed to explain the multitude of issues I have with that part of me, I left with a packet of pills which have done nothing to sort out the problem she suggested they would, and her only suggestion was a Mirena Coil.

Which the nice male GP told me wasn't an option for PCOS sufferers. 

The problem with the coil is that it can and does make women who have it put on upto 4 stone in weight (when PCOS already causes weight gain this is hardly a solution, to make me gain more weight, and then need possible gastric band surgery or other medication). It also causes depression (again, something PCOS causes already), acne, stomach cramps, infections, and obliterates your sex drive (should you even be attractive to the opposite sex after putting on enough weight to be the size of a small family car).

In other words, it will actually make my existing symptoms worse. Which, if she is meant to be a healthcare professional, you would expect her to know. She also told me I was exaggerating having the cysts on both sides (even though I invited her to look at the scan in my notes), and that PCOS doesn't cause pain. In which case, surely I would definitely need referral for investigation as to what is causing the pain? Apparently not. 

In my view, this is just Misogyny alive and well and used as a cost cutting initiative within the NHS. If I can pay to have it removed, they would do it, no argument. As I can't, it's going to continue effecting my day to day life, probably for at least the next 20 years.

In the longterm, PCOS is going to very probably cause secondary health issues, like type 2 Diabetes, heart disease, and can, more worrying, hide the symptoms of ovarian cancer.

The NHS just does not care whatsoever. 

I really have no clue what to try next. All the bitch I saw last night has done is send me for a referral for this blasted and unnecessary Coil, despite me protesting that it would make the situation worse. 

Any ideas? I'm at the end of tether frankly.

The Bounty Mutiny- The Say No Campaign Makes National Press

Yes, you read that right readers!

Our (and I say our as there are some fantastic ladies who are fighting against the big boys of Mumsnet and the NCT) campaign has reached the eyes and ears of not just those we disagree with, but Bounty themselves (who are absolutely lovely and shocked at the sudden bad feeling being directed at them), and The Daily Telegraph newspaper too.

It's also great to see that 86 people have now signed the petition, and some of the reasons they give are amazing. Stories which far outweigh the negatives. People who argue that you can say no, no one makes you sign anything.

The thing is, and I've held back on saying this until now, but I studied Government and Politics for A'Level. I found it a bit boring, but I take my hat off to one of my tutors who taught us something which immediately springs to mind regards this campaign.

Have you noticed how the Tory party is on the back foot? Its not likely that they'll get back in at the next election. They made some big promises in the run up to landing joint power with the Lib Dems. 

Promises you don't need me to tell you they have barely kept. The country is still in crisis. There are still British Service people in foreign climes fighting the same wars they classed as "phoney" when arguing with the previous government.

The NHS, that they promised to protect, has gotten worse. As I've said before, Queens has a ridiculous history of child birth related deaths, Stafford, Medway (my own local hospital for many years) and 6 others are being investigated due to their unexplained high death rates. The CQC is being investigated for covering up the deaths of children, and we all saw the shocking footage of patients being abused by staff at Winterbourne View.

I know of bloggers and their families where the treatment they receive is appalling. Some have even had their much needed help revoked. As a family, we have been let down time and time again, and are now simply left to fend for ourselves when it comes to Littlest's illnesses.

So, what does that matter?

A smokescreen.

If you watch old footage of Maggie Thatcher, when times got tough she would bring up the victory in the Falklands. When President Obama had some tough questions from Mitt Romney during his campaign, he mentioned Osama Bin Laden's death.

It's what politicians do. When something gets a bit tough, when they may have to answer to their failures, they bring up things to create a smokescreen, to take attention away.

In the case of the Bounty Mutiny, and the knee jerk Early Day Motion, these Mumsnetters and supporters have played an own goal. 

Both the NHS and the Government are desperate to hide the mistakes, the broken promises. By jumping in with this Mutiny, by agreeing with it and helping it get publicity, they get to skirt the real issue, hide the appalling stats on patient care and move on to something which has been ramped to a major issue, when it clearly boils down to a few women being a bit pissed off they were disturbed.

Has anyone asked Bounty what changes it's willing to make? 

Bounty has admitted, freely, that some times, yes, their representatives do go a bit OTT on the sales angle. However, they have never said that they don't and wont deal with those who do. They are willing to follow whatever the NHS directs. They want to continue to provide a valuable service to the NHS, to new Mums and to the HMRC. 

Who wants to go to their local Jobcentre Plus or Post Office for Child Benefit forms with a new born in a push chair? The Mutineers say they should be left alone to enjoy their baby- can't really do that if having to trundle back and forth to the High Street for forms. Its easier to have them in the packs.

Do we really want to say that, after a baby, we are suddenly too dumbstruck to say no? To suddenly decide to stick with the brands in our packs rather than use the freebies, spend the vouchers and then find a cheaper brand? To not be able to read a form before we fill it out?

This campaign is a joke. The mutineers don't even know what the hell they are fighting for anymore.

First, it was to ban Bounty from hospital wards, their packs, the whole lot. The only time the NHS was mentioned was to badger them via Twitter to remove Bounty. It was all about the negative experiences of a few Mumsnetters.

Next, when a few of us start suggesting that, actually, Bounty is the least of the NHS' problems, suddenly, they did want NHS change as part of a wider part of the Bounty Mutiny. It was about the data protection too. 

Now, it's not a Mumsnet campaign (even though the majority of tweets are from Mumsnetters and Mumsnet HQ), and they first said Bounty should be in a side room for those who want it, the bags on the bed when we book in.

Make your minds up ladies and gents, please!

It's like half of them have read a different brief from the rest!

Unlike our campaign which simply says Bounty give funds which are needed to hospitals. They deserve the chance to make changes to something which has been as much a part of giving birth as booties and stitches where we don't want them. The governments time should not be taken up by a Mumsnet vanity project and an NCT attempt to usurp Bounty in hospitals. Our voices should be used to force change where change is needed, not make a group of people, doing a job which the majority of women appreciate redundant.

The message is clear- we don't go changing it.

Want to help give the government and the NHS trusts something to hide behind? Support the Mutiny.

Want to bring a voice to the silent majority who are sick of the poor treatment when they need it most? Sign the petition.

Thanks for reading.

Dear Bounty Mutineers: Did You Think We Wouldn't Get OUR Voices Heard?

Sooooooooo my lovelies. 

I have been:

Personally attacked on Twitter (standard)
Had my beliefs and motives questioned (u-huh)
Started a petition (You know me guys)

Lived to tell the tale.

You know what I really do not like in Social Media? That some people who should know better resort to thinking that it's their way or the highway. That there should not be an opposing view. That they are right. Full stop, end of, and no one has the right to say anything.

Can I get a collective hell no please in here?

The thing is, my issue (or ishoo as I always feel with these things is more appropriate) is that social media is there to set the tone To push the trends. To spark thoughts, feelings and friendly debate.

It is not to spearhead a campaign, however worthwhile you feel it it is, and then, when quite a few people do what is morally right and the reason for social media and say, after considering your view I'd like to publicly say I don't agree, to mud sling, name call and be downright rude and abusive.

Is It Just Me: Who Thinks Changes to Maternity Care are More Important Than Banning Bounty?

OK dear anon people: Fire away but please be aware, I will tweet the more gormless messages for my followers to laugh at. Just so you know.

I am writing, well, actually, editing a post I'd already written about this so called "Bounty Mutiny" (ahem) (insert face/palm motion here), but for once I'd gone a bit pussy on you all and decided that it wasn't worth the aggro. One person leading the charge (I feel that's the correct term as Mutiny is the word being used) suddenly hates my guts for no reason, and Mumsnet also back it (and we all know they truly hate my guts) so hence why I'd kind of face/palmed and not posted it. I know, right, I must be getting old.

Anyway, Emma, who blogs at the magnificent "Crazy With Twins" has decided to go for my Sarcastic Bastard Award (Copyright 2006-2013, erm, me) and written a witty opposing view.

So here's goes nothing.

Double Beds on the Labour Ward? Have the NHS Gone Mad?

This was a headline I saw being discussed on TV this morning, and I had two reactions. Firstly I wanted to check it wasn't April 1st, and secondly I spat my coffee out in shock.

The NHS- you know, them of the lack of funds, epic failings on waiting times, sometimes rude staff and general "only go if you really have no choice" (eg a limb falling off which you can't sew back yourself)- has decided to place double beds on Labour and Maternity wards. They believe this will make Dad's feel more involved right from the start, as they can snuggle up in bed right from the first push.

As a woman, I have to say- hell no! Are you mad?

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.

Dear So and So- The Tearing Hair Out Edition

Its Friday, it's very nearly the least scariest holiday of them all, Halloween, and its also reaching the end of Half Term, so here's a few well timed Dear So and So letters for you all to enjoy.

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.

Dear So and So: School, Ghost Towns and Doctors

Here are this weeks little notes of appreciation or otherwise. Enjoy!

What Do You Do When the NHS Let's Your Child Down?

Apologies if this ends up as rather a ranty post, but I didn't get any sleep last night and the reason will become apparent.


Yesterday, we had a normal day, did a bit of shopping, got some nice food in, ready for the start of the X Factor. Anyone who has followed me on Twitter for the last year or two knows that I look forward to the X Factor, and generally join in with the banter that ensues. Last year I went to Twitter jail 3 times, and my follows went up week after week- even being retweeted by MSN.


But at 5pm, sat at the computer, Littlest started to cough.

Comment: Hospital Food Sucks!

I am writing this post after watching the Dispatches programme on Channel 4 last night (at last, a fair and well researched programme from them!) about Hospital food.

After spending 10 weeks in Traction, reporter Mark Sparrow started a Food blog, chronicling the awful fayre served up by his NHS hospital. However, he did say he managed to have a few great meals, such as salmon with new potatoes. He was lucky!

 

Now, I can completely sympathise with Mark, and agree wholeheartedly that food in NHS hospitals is appalling beyond belief, food so bad you wouldn't feed your dog, let alone your worst enemy it. I experienced this first hand in 2008.

Due to my waters breaking at 27 weeks when pregnant with Littlest, I was forced to stay at my local ante natal care ward for a week, followed by 5 days on the Maternity ward. I then spent 4 days on SCBU just before Littlest came home 3 and a half months on from having him.

My first introduction to hospital food was dinner, and I was told it was really important to keep eating and eat well, for Littlest's sake. Off I went to the little side room to get something from the large trolley, queueing up with the other women.

What I saw was six large silver catering dishes, filled with violently coloured slop. Yes, that's the only word I can use- slop. I asked the Nurse who was over seeing the food (and making sure we all ate something) what was available, and was told it was Ethnic choice food, and the slop was in fact different forms of lentil curry. So I asked where the non-ethnic choice was, and was pointed to some half mashed half whole boiled potatoes, grey in colour and hardly edible looking (I couldn't stomach the idea of tasting to find out if they tasted as bad as they looked). That was it, potato, nothing with it. She then told me I must eat something, so I took a sandwich, and an apple.

The sandwich, on reflection, seemed like a great idea, yet the next day I realised that these were brought up to the ward at 12pm, and then left out all day, on the side- not refrigerated at all. So when I picked one up at 6pm, it had sat for 6 hours sweating in its plastic tray. No wonder it was stale and curly at the edges.

That meant sandwiches were off the menu after that as a dinner option.

We could, however help ourselves to coffee and tea, but were expected to put some coins in the jar. We also had water jugs, but again, these were left out all day and very rarely refreshed, and when I asked a few times for a re-fill, I would find myself snarled at by the less than friendly staff. Whilst I was sympathetic of them being understaffed, it was August, it was hot and the room was unventilated with no air conditioning.

All week, all that was available was the same "ethnic option". There were quite a few ethnic groups on the ward, however, I spoke to a number of differently raced women whilst there- it passed the time if nothing else, and everyone moaned about the food. Regardless of what we all ate at home, those brave enough to try the lentil concoctions did so once and regretted it after. 

Halfway through my stay, I went to the room, pondering whether to have a pear instead of an apple, and there was excitement from the queue as there was fish for dinner.

Well, yes and no. It was served up as fish in white sauce. What I got was a plate of runny yet lumpy white sauce which had the hint of the sea about it in that it was salty beyond belief (I'm not going to say what I thought it reminded me of as I'm too ladylike. It was white, salty and fishy, you work it out). It had burnt onion in it. 

Fish, however was lacking. Apparently, if I'd been in the first, not the third ward of 4 beds called for dinner, I'd have got some fish. By the time I got there and was served by the bored nurse, there was none left. 

So a plate of white salty slop, with burnt onions, and those ubiquitous grey lumps of mash and spud mixture.

Over the week in ante-natal care, I felt tired and ratty, I was always hungry. I have a good appetite and a good cook at home, I'm used to eating nicely sized, nice tasting food. Its not even posh what we eat, and not expensive, just good, old fashioned grub like Shepherds Pies and stews.

Luckily for me, one of the breakfast trolley ladies on my last day on the ward before I went into labour in the evening asked me whether I'd like toast or cereal for breakfast (the only time we had a choice was between the two at breakfast, and which we were woken up for at 7am), and I asked if I could have both!

She was so lovely, not one of the midwifery staff but an auxiliary, and she gave me three bits of all be it cold toast, and a generous helping of cornflakes- probably the only time when cold toast has tasted so good!

Typically, the one night when a possibly edible meal of fish and chips was served and I was in labour- I could see the food, yet despite calling for help I couldn't move as when I stood up even slightly I felt like my legs didn't work and felt lightheaded too. It took for one of the woman on my ward to go and shout at the desk staff before they came and attended to me- even though I had been telling them since 2pm and it was now 6pm.

Anyhow, back to the food.

After Littlest was born, I was then in the Maternity ward, and hoped the food would improve.

Some hope! 

On the Sunday, I thought I might be able to eat my first proper meal since the week before at home, as we were told it was Roast lunch day- a possibility of which caused me such happiness I could almost have salivated.

Sadly, the promised roast was worse even than the curly sandwich- beef which was 95% gristle and 5% mush, in a small round shape. I suspect it was very cheap sandwich beef, which would account for the shape and the gristle. 1 small spud, not roasted (not even the plague of Aunt Bessie fakery either), it was cold and grey. The gravy was thin and greasy- how they managed that I'll always wonder. Plus a carrot. Not a whole carrot, a slice of. Great.

Luckily, one of my co-patients Mums very sneakily brought in a massive bucket of KFC, although she had to hide it. On one occasion she had brought in "outside food" and had it taken off her and chucked away. We all had to do a Mission Impossible movement round the ward to her curtained bed, keeping an eye out for the staff. My God it was worth it though! Yum!

All in all the food over that close to two week period was so rotten, I lost a stone, and was close to back to my pre-pregnant weight, not bad after a c-section and all the swelling that causes.

Then, when I had to go in to learn how to care for a sick Littlest at home, and manage his oxygen intake, I thought I'd be given a meal. Wrong. 

We were told we had to go to the canteen and buy our food ourselves. That wasn't cheap.

When you factor in the £6 for 24 hours TV, 75p a minute calls, and then close to £20 a day for food, it all adds up.

What has always baffled me was that the canteen food, although quite expensive, was gorgeous, with huge servings available of food ethnic and otherwise, loads of choice and steaming hot. 

So, why was the patients food so awful across the board?

Seriously, I am that confident that the food was so inedible that I think WP hospital should close as a proper hospital and open as a fat camp. Serve the morbidly obese types you see on programmes like The Biggest Loser the food there, they'd lose weight in weeks refusing to eat the stuff they tried to force on me.

I even looked up WP on Netmums- whilst overall the staff get the thumbs up, the food is overwhelmingly slated. Even by Ethnic ladies!

The lack of food choice was introduced when the people behind the food had to factor in that Slough and the surrounding area is a culturally diverse place- hence the chick peas and lentils. 

However, one Asian lady, who spoke very poor English, managed to agree with the rest of us patients, by complaining that even in her country, they offer more choice, and that even at home she would eat the lentil option with a meat or fish dish, and certainly not with grey spuds or congealed rice! And a Polish patient who said she wouldn't expect us all to eat the kinds of food Polish people eat (there are a vast number of Polish immigrants in Berkshire) and despite there being just as many Polish patients they weren't catered for either. But she didn't expect them to be, as it was an English hospital, so surely the food should reflect that too?

Could it be that the food served up, not only satisfied the ethnic lobby who demand, quite rightly, that minority groups be catered for, but also because it was cheap. That's probably, in my view, more the case.If there was such a concern not to insult these minority groups, then why not serve Halal meat, at least that would have been a more edible option than lentil curry, and would have satisfied the cultural needs of a rich and diverse area.

Why also, on the scarce nights when food like the fish in sauce was available did it not stretch to all the women on the ward? Eight beds in and the fish was gone, surely the catering team know how many women are on one ward?

Tonight, local chef and Bray Botherer Heston Blumenthal, is on a mission to create better food at Alder Hey Children's Hospital.

However, without doubt once those TV cameras disappear, the food will return to its usual poor, cheap, and nasty status quo.

Its time that food, which is vital to help us keep our strength up (and get us out the hospital quicker) is overhauled.

I can't see that happening anytime soon.

If you haven't discovered Mark's Blog, Notes From a Hospital Bed  yet, it's well worth adding to your reader.

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.