Category Archives: Laughing boy tales
The investigation map
NH-Kafka-S and smoking mirrors
“1 member of staff has left the trust and has been formally referred to the NMC.
Disciplinary hearings for 3 members of staff will be held in December. This has been delayed as we previously understood that these would take place in October.
2 junior staff have been investigated and have returned to work under supervision, following additional training.
The doctor involved has left the trust, as you are aware. We believe that they are no longer registered in the UK. We understand that the GMC are carrying out their own process in regard to this doctor. I believe that Sara Ryan is aware of this.
The duration of time that this is all taking to conclude is very regrettable. The Trust have acknowledged this and apologise for it. They have explained that some of the staff involved have had periods of sickness, which has resulted in their cases being unable to be progressed. There was also an issue of staff being subject to Ridgeway policies, which were not wholly fit for purpose and subsequent negotiation with the staff representatives to agree a way forward.”
So. As ever. Questions/comments. Questions we shouldn’t be asking.
Why has it taken so long to get an update on the above?Why do the numbers of staff involved change on every iteration?Why are the disciplinary hearings to be held in December? LB died 19 months before this. How can this process possibly take this long?You know I’m aware that the GMC are carrying out their own process about the doctor because I fucking referred him/her. Because no one else would.The time taken isn’t ‘regrettable’. It’s barbaric.We haven’t had the luxury of taking ‘periods of sickness’ because of what we’re up against.Don’t pull the ‘Ridgeway policy’ card. You took over this organisation knowing the issues involved.Given crap all has happened in over 16 months, what a meaningless statement from NHS England about pressing for progress.
And, as ever, you absolute fucking bastards. Typical bastardry by Sloven, half arsed, lily livered NHS England response, complete duck out by Monitor, behind the fence shivering from the local authority/clinical commissioning group and some action by the CCQ.
What an absolute shambles.
Approaching LB’s birth day
It’s LB’s 20th birthday on Monday. Howl. Howl. Howl. Howl. I love it that the kids have all been thinking and planning around it. Howl. I’m unable to do much more than appreciate their thinking and planning. That they are thinking and planning. I don’t say much (sorry kids) and scuffle off into a different space at home. Or work.
Thinking of LB’s birthday when I’m out, as I do at the mo, is a Sooty tears situ. I’m pitched straight back to those early baking July days, and earlier. I walk through town or sit on the bus with tears running down my face.
Funnily enough, for all the rules of social interaction I’ve been fascinated with since becoming a sociology student years ago, I’ve learned you can actually have a good old public weep quite privately. Maybe it’s because of the digital focus. We can all be online now and blank out (deliberately or obliviously) the ‘messiness’ of what might be happening next to/around us.
The birth day space is one of such intense pain that I can barely breathe, function or do anything with. How can you have a child and not celebrate their birthday? How does/will this work over coming years. When LB stays 18 and we all grow older. Without him. Howl. What do you do with such an intense longing/missing for a person who is such an integral part of you?
At the moment my mind calendar is pretty much reduced to two dates; death day and birth day. All other ‘celebratory’ dates (birthdays, Christmas, Easter, etc) are irrelevant. I know I have to move beyond this focus (even though I don’t want to). I know our (pretty legendary) kids have and deserve their own space to do and be and shine and be loved for who they are. Nothing should take away from this. But it’s hard. It’s so bloody hard not to be caught up in and devoured by the intense pain of missing and aching for the cub who was picked off, carelessly and callously, by a publicly funded body. A body that exists to ‘care’.
How the fuck in fucking hellsters is LB not alive?
What Sloven did after last summer
Candlelight, Joni Mitchell and stuff: More despatches
A counter powerpoint
The Slovens compounded distress with even more distress this week. A staff training powerpoint off the scale of appropriate.
A (bad) taste of the document, now hidden behind the Sloven firewall:

Here in the Justice Shed we kind of try to stay positive (determined not to let these bastards destroy us). So here is a counter powerpoint which is hopefully more useful.
(I’ve pulled this together quite speedily and may revise over time).
Reputation, reputation, reputation
Another Despatches. Another development of complete rage and incomprehension.
Sloven sunday and an Indian feast
I spent the weekend cooking Sunday lunch. Bit unusual for me. And a bit of a mixed Indian feast. Tricky if you don’t eat meat to gauge flavours in a lamb spectacular (Nigella’s Indian Feast). The lamb curry was as tough as old boots last night according to sniffy Rich. This morning I got it out the fridge, tried to ignore the obvious rubberiness of the meat and got on with the rest of the feast; (off piste after mutter paneer with my legendary dahl (it really is and I ain’t no cook) and Madjur Jaffrey’s potatoes with mustard seeds/cumin and stir fried cauliflower. At one point I thought about googling ‘how to soften up rubbery old lamb’ but Nigella warned this might happen and said an overnighter in the sauce would ease the troubled meat.
She was right apparently. Rich and Rosie tucked in gamely. Rich had a painted on smile throughout the meal (my cooking is often the source of some tense exchanges) but they said it was great and they were looking forward to eating it for the next ten years. (I went more for Indian wedding feast than bog standard feast).
Anyway. After a kip, I hit twitter and discovered that Sloven are celebrating being shortlisted for the Nursing Times 2014 award for the health and wellbeing of their staff. Along with pics of the Sloven senior team celebrating this development.

I don’t know. I know the world shouldn’t stop because our dude died. I know Sloven have around 9000 staff many of whom are probably ace. But seeing the CEO ligging about celebrating what is a meaningless, commercial (short list t-shirt?) enterprise while we’re still waiting for fairly basic answers (like, ironically, the outcome of staff disciplinary actions) is pretty rubbish. Leaving a young, healthy dude to drown in the bath and then spitting his family out in a series of obstructive, deceitful, bullying and delaying actions, is off the scale of what the NHS is (or should be).
I wondered if an overnight stint in some sort of sauce could ease this troubled bunch. What it would be like if there was a recipe book or manual somewhere that says ‘be aware that the Trust might well act like complete gobshites after the death of your beloved child/partner/mother/sister… But don’t worry. You don’t need to do anything. Just leave it with us. By tomorrow, the rubberiness will be gone.’
Wow. Wouldn’t that be something?
Sadly, there is no Nigella in this context. There is no sauce. No overnight in the fridge. None of the obvious suspects – ministers, Monitor, NHS England, CQC, the HSE or, as yet to join the party, the Health Ombudsman – seem to have de-rubbering magic.
The Sloven party continues.

