Holy Moly. When I sat on my break last night and uploaded my blog, I just thought it would be the usual load of my mates and family who read it. About an hour after posting it, I had to turn off notifications, the constant vibration in my pocket was becoming disconcerting. After waking from a sleep today, over ten thousand people have read my last post.
I guess I got a taste of the “main stage” I was shouting about.
Although I had written it in the daytime yesterday, it was a conversation with one of the doctors last night which prompted me to post it when I did. With me being new to the Trust we had never met, but quickly sunk into the current fail safe healthcare small talk – COVID-19. His concerns and critique mirrored mine, literally echoing what I had written earlier in the day, the exact same frustrations.
We all feel powerless, which is ironic when we’re currently being portrayed as “superheroes”.
So the ‘Hero’ label is something which has become a double edged sword, for me personally it doesn’t sit right for many reasons. This rhetoric started before COVID-19 was in the country, it first became firmly on my radar in January. The Prime Minister was asked to thank the staff in the department I’d just left for their “Superhuman efforts” over winter – which he duly did.
I am obviously not casting doubt on their amazing skills and honourable dedication to the job, but like all of us, they are only human – and despite trying – they can’t do the job of four people.
I resigned from my role in A&E this January, after spending six months off work with stress and depression, the pressure of that job literally made me suicidal.
So to hear our leaders describe those that could cope as superhuman, it almost renders those like me who can’t as unworthy or inadequate. Like it’s some sort of badge of honour, or status thing to be able to keep taking the bullets. But I wasn’t provided with a bulletproof vest, I had no armour. And to be honest I didn’t sign up to be a contestant in the Hunger Games.
When these heroes fall, who will be catching them?
When I fell there was nothing from my employer to help pick me back up, I had to source everything myself. When you’re dodging their bullets you’re a hero, but what are you once you get shot?
Thankfully things have improved in terms of Mental Health support for staff locally, my new Trust is really well set up and I know efforts have been made in my previous Trust – but is it enough? Suicide rates in NHS staff were escalating before COVID. There has been evidence of PTSD in those working within the crisis, which is likely to increase. So why isn’t more being done? There is no basic level of requirements for Trusts to provide adequate mental health support for staff, it’s a lottery depending on who you work for. There is no national dedicated helpline for Nurses with counselling or quick access to therapy, it all depends on how much of a priority it is for your individual workplace. These are the types of basic services that myself and The Laura Hyde Foundation bang on about, to me it isn’t rocket science.
So are we “Heroes”?
Or does it just normalise the inhumane pressure we’re expected to take on the chin?
I see it’s now being used as a way of beating Teachers into submission about children returning to school – the Daily Fail stating “let Teachers be heroes too”. I thought it was a joke at first, but sadly not. It’s strange cause I was under the impression superheroes were meant to save lives, not risk thousands for the sake of 6 weeks back at school. How silly of me. Every days a school day eh? Thanks Daily Mail.
Despite all this there is a positive vibe to the ‘hero’ label, and I think it all depends who it’s coming from and the context. I need to make this clear because I don’t want to downplay how amazing it has been to see, hear, feel the respect pouring from the community, and I think that’s because I believe it’s a way of showing they truly respect what we do. I don’t feel that from the government, from them it feels like a contradiction.