I had a phone interview earlier with an investigator investigating Sloven nursing staff on behalf of the Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC). This has taken so long to happen because Sloven spent an age and a day doing their internal disciplinary investigations [of course] and consistently refusing to say who they were investigating [of course]. We referred a consultant to the General Medical Council (GMC) back in May 2014 after being told by ‘a source’ she’d done a bunk. The nurses weren’t so clear cut.
So today I found out the names of the six referred nurses. Six. And no medics. The Sloven sloven industry as always delivering pure shite. Take over (land lucrative) provision from afar, leave it to sink into a hellhole of discontent, malaise and fear and, when the inevitable shitola happens, make sure no one within a fifty mile radius of the mothership catches any of the fall out. Particularly anyone approaching board or CEO level.
In her opening spiel, the investigator offered me the services of a liaison officer to ‘provide support during this process’. Bit late in the day for that really. It reminded me of the Health and Safety Executive leaving us a booklet about what to do after the unexpected death of a family member. About 18 months after LB died. Learning point 1,345,987 If you come into contact with families some while down the grief and bereavement road to nowhere, perhaps think about the standard bells you typically offer and frame them appropriately…
Next stop was the blog.
‘You, er, write a blog. Could you not write about this, it may disrupt the process…’
Mmm. There wouldn’t be a process if I didn’t write a blog. And despite the ludicrous shrieks of the Dr Crapshite brigade, I’ve not been a name shamer on these pages. (Well not below leadership level… the likes of KP, Petter, Jacko and Hudspeth who I reckon get paid to swallow the pill of possible publicity). I agreed to not mention the content of the interview.
Then we were off.
It was so blinking distressing to go over everything again. Even more distressing, if that’s possible, after experiencing LB’s inquest and hearing the (still not quite) full story of what happened. Layers and layers and layers of wrong that simply scream out. While crap all happens.
‘Can’t you use the context I provided to the GMC?’ I asked after the first question.
‘No, we need to have what happened in your words.’
‘They were my words‘, my brain screamed… like they were for the police. For the coroner… for Verita. Learning point 1,345,988 There is no justification for repeated telling when the telling has already been done in an official capacity unless people want to. Otherwise, agreement with the person/family that they are happy for a cut and paste version to be used from another official telling should do. There is always the option to add or delete bits at the next stage.. [Howl].
Such disconnect among the various arms of the (non) accountability dance. A fresh beating with a blunt instrument on each iteration (I now suspect with even more nails as the futility of the telling becomes more and more apparent). Perhaps 1,345,989 should be a brief note, early on, stating:
Now you’ve experienced the worst thing you could ever (not dare to) imagine, we’re going to spent the next few years or more (well as long as it takes) torturing you in a combination of bureaucratic, thoughtless, deliberate, ignorant and incompetent ways…
‘Do you want a break?’ asked the investigator several times during the interview.
My brain seemed to be hosting a particularly absurd but unavoidable horror show that made it difficult to speak. Sitting at work, I drilled the phone into my ear and sort of strangely gargled, cried, caterwauled and clawed my way through the following hour. I didn’t want a break. I just wanted it over.
[Final reflection: I had the odd moment while writing this post that I haven’t had before. Would I somehow jeopardise the NMC investigation. Not by disrupting the process but by simply pissing them off? I don’t know. But we’ll never know anything if things remain secret.]