Launching A Radiotherapy Story

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About a year ago, I saw a really cool website from Canada about the Faces of Healthcare.

And I thought, wouldn’t it be cool to have something like this for radiotherapy, and the surrounding services (which is essentially pretty much EVERYTHING in the NHS). Oncology is very much one of the most inter-disciplinary areas within healthcare, ever. From dietitians, counsellors, all different types of doctors, dementia care, mental health, social workers, GPs, ambulance drivers, nurses, students, volunteers, etc — it’s endless! Trying to seamlessly work together to provide the best patient care and experience.

It is for this exact reason why I believe we should celebrate our profession and our patients and their carers and loved ones, and for every single person who is involved within the NHS. Because without them, we’d be a bit lost.

The receptionists who make sure patients get to see the people they need to see. The porters who take the patients to Boots and reading every single sandwich ingredients to the patient. To the volunteers who run Bridge Clinic, and provide unlimited biscuits. To the student who helps someone on and off the toilet… it’s literally endless.

So many people don’t know about radiotherapy. So many patients find the process quite anxiety enhancing due to the lack of personable, friendly, understandable and in-date information online coming up to their treatment.

And as I’ve gone through my training I’ve seen some truly compassionate stuff and heard some amazing stories – of all types. The stories from patients that have stuck with staff, the stories that made staff go into the profession and stay when things have been or become tough.

Patients have been some of my best teachers throughout my training, but some of those lessons have been hard.

And I’d love to share these stories with you. Because everyone’s story deserves to be heard. And i hope through reconstructing these narratives together, we can empower our experiences.

A Radiotherapy Story is photo-documentary on kindness and trauma, on team-working, on suffering and on truly living. On being part of something bigger than yourself.

We want to share with you the stories of these people, of the NHS, to celebrate the pinnacle of humanity and kindness. Of life and death.  I hope you’ll enjoy what we’ve made.

http://www.radiotherapystory.com will be launched in 2 weeks time.

And if you’ve got a story in healthcare that you’d love to share, let us know! Contact: smizz at smizz@sarahsmizz.com or @smizz on twitter.

The project is run by me and Harri Slater.

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The things I’ve learned from a broken mirror

Saving a life doesn’t change the world, but for that person, the world changes forever.

I’m right at the bittersweet end of my 3 years of  BSc Hons radiation-oncology school training. Assuming I pass the last few things, in 3 weeks I’ll be technically allowed, once my HCPC registration and license and indemnity insurance comes through, to plan, care for and treat people who have cancer with radiotherapy. Which is really scary. I will be responsible and liable by law for the safety of my patients.

And yet, the 3 years has gone past in a whirl-wind. It has been both long (no thanks to working clinically all through the summers) and extremely fast. Energizing and completely ball-breakingly fatiguing. A mixture of: I’m not ready to be qualified yet to I just want to do the job, already! Slowly ticking off endless assignment after endless assignment. Slowly being able to reflect upon how far we have come.

And now I write this post. With a cool raspberry lemonade in one hand, I stare out of the window with the sun in my eyes and feel kind of relaxed for the first time in a long time.

Doing this course was a massive risk for me.

I had nothing and everything to loose.

Here’s what I’ve learnt:

A few years ago (y’all know the story), my original life had become broken by ill-health and everything changed.  No one should ever underestimate the lack of quality of life living with horrible, endless, chronic pain and fatigue offers.  And as a result, my old life just didn’t fit in the same way anymore. So, after drawing people wanting to change the NHS to make it better using their health experiences, and this personal medical experience of mine – I decided to give up my planned life of being a full-time artist and retrain in healthcare (with the perspective of an artist). This was because I needed to get closure, to understand the human-body, to gain some control from this knowledge, and a routine – to try and ease the fatigue (that turned out to be a LOL – there’s no rest in healthcare): but most of all, my biggest motivator was  to try and make a difference and really care for others.

This was because the NHS was the first place I had been shown any real true kindness  from complete strangers when I was at my most weakest. I felt (& I feel it even more now than ever) this pit of gratitude at the bottom of my stomach when I think about the care I have been given & continue to receive – from everyone in the NHS, not just doctors & HCP but to the students, receptionists and porters, ect.

From my GP (the awesome Dr. Marco Pieri) who would say we’re friends. And in the beginning, I thought that saying we were friends was weird.  I was suspicious. It’s just his job? I knew nothing about him.  But as I grew older with him, and cried on him when I was at my lowest (i don’t ever cry in front of people), and moaned, and repeated the same endless complaints at him -much to his dismay – he built up this incredible knowledge about me as a person – not just what was wrong with me. He asks me about my work, my life in general and about my fears. He asks me what I want to do in regards to my care and he gives me lil’ prep talks (even unsolicited NHS job interview advise) by telling me to keep going and just to live life to the fullest (fo’ serious). He was one of the first people I told (by chance) that I got this awesome fully-funded PhD scholarship. He stopped me from jumping around from random GP to GP, because I didn’t understand the importance of continuity in care at the time. I feel like he intrinsically cares – not just for my wellbeing – but for the whole population of Doncaster after discussions with him on his passion for improving life expectancy & outcomes for the Donx to meet the rest of the population (thus his role as a clinical lead in the Doncaster CCG).

It turns out that he is in fact both Physician and detective, and through time, he also became both healer & friend. And through experiencing a lot of his kindness, his humor, his knowledge, his time & care – I felt like I needed to return it.  I wanted to be that person he was for me – for my patients; to make them feel cared for and valued. To not feel insignificant when you’re at your most vulnerable.

What I’ve learnt is that patients have been my best teachers, but some of my lessons have been painful.

I  have learnt from their  incredibly life affirming stories of hope, humor, achievement and tragedy and heartbreak. There was a woman whose volunteer hospital transport driver turned out to be her long-lost niece – found and reunited together through daily drives to & from radiotherapy treatment. I’ve treated gold-medal winners from the Olympics 50 years ago, pilots, magazine publishers. I’ve seen people go home and back with nothing but the clothes on their back- for 7 weeks, heard stories of amazing neighbours and learnt a lot about people’s pets. I’ve heard horrific stories that just needed to be told and heard – of death, loss, and abuse. Every day is a day where I take at least someone home in my head. Some fade away, eventually. Though 3 years on – there’s some patients who are etched onto my mind and I don’t know why some really stay with you.  I stopped checking up on them post-treatment because quite a few have died since- and it makes me feel incredibly sad. These people who we often just shared 2 or 3 weeks together at 10 mins + at a time become significant to me. And  I hope I never loose this into qualification.

 

It will be weird not being with #teamleeds, every day; My friends who we’ve gone through and seen a lot together. These stories bound us together. They’re like brothers and sisters now. I imagine this is kind of how joining the army feels, but instead it’s a healthcare course.  It will be weird not joining in on a random Facebook conversation, not having to panic about the endless deadlines and  unclear learning objectives. My closest friends (most of them younger than me) on the course have taught me a lot about growing up. I’ve managed to have a second ‘coming of age’ experience through being good friends in their journey. We’ve travelled when we could together, hosted parties and feasts of food. Shared and supported each other through tragedies, deadlines, successes and the crazy profound things life throws at you. I am completely in awe of these now 21 year olds who are mature before their years. And I think about how their strength is true testament to how I’ve managed to get here – 3 years on. At the beginning of the course, we said that we would drag each other through to the very bittersweet end. And here we are, 3 weeks to go, still dragging each other. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for them, egging us on.

Then there is the staff at the place where I’ve trained, they have been incredible. They’re passionate about education and patient care and safety. They love radiotherapy. They’ve shown me time, enthusiasm and exactly what being a compassionate healthcare professional should look like. I’ve learnt how to ask questions, without being too leading. I’ve learnt to hear for things not actually said, but implied, by patients so that I know if they need more extra support. I feel incredibly indebted to them for their knowledge and time (and patience!). I hope that we stay friends at the end because they’re such great fun people. And I can’t thank my tutors enough for all of their guidance and knowledge in helping me shape me as a healthcare professional!

What I’ve learnt in my Healthcare education (both officially and as a patient) is that everyone in the NHS has a reason to do what they do: It’s almost never about money or our quality of life. It’s because we can make a difference. All any of us ever want to do is to make other people’s lives better. Sometimes it’s life-changing, sometimes it’s something much simpler.

Sometimes things don’t work the way we should. The system isn’t perfect. Neither are the people in it. But it is fundamentally decent and good and whole. That’s why I am absolutely committed to the principles, to the ideals of the NHS. I think it’s just about the best thing this country has ever achieved. It is remarkably robust, but the pressures facing it are immense, and there are few easy solutions. But we – the people of the NHS – ALL STAFF- are absolutely committed to it.

What I’ll always remember from my education in radiotherapy – and that crazy 3 years of unpaid labour – will be the stories that made these people into NHS.

Being a radiotherapy student has given me a lot of perspective and new skills I never knew I could do.  I’Ve learnt that whenever you can’t think of something to say in a conversation, ask people questions instead. Even if you’re next to a man who collects pre-Seventies screws and bolts, you will probably never have another opportunity to find out so much about pre-Seventies screws and bolts, and you never know when it will be useful.

Life divides into AMAZING ENJOYABLE TIMES and APPALLING EXPERIENCES THAT WILL MAKE FUTURE AMAZING ANECDOTES.

And life can be incredibly short. So see as many sunrises and sunsets as you can. Run across roads to smell fat roses. Always believe you can change the world – even if it’s only a tiny bit, because every tiny bit needed someone who changed it. Think of yourself as a silver rocket – use loud music as your fuel; books like maps and co-ordinates for how to get there. Host extravagantly, love constantly, dance in comfortable shoes,  and never, ever start smoking.

Thank you to the whole of the NHS for your love, and kindness, and education. It turns out studying Radiotherapy turned out to be WAY more than just a degree at the end. 

I have learnt, through pain,  that I am more than my pain, more than what was built & burned, more than all I’ve lost. You will get to build again. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to share this adventure with the people who’ve helped you.   Remember it ain’t always about where you start, but it’s about where you’re going and end up.

To the last 3 weeks!

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0-5.jpg *Hope I pass!*

 

 

Break it down, build it up, make it better around the world.

I’m now officially in this incredible and super lucky position of sitting across multiple disciplines all at the same time; i straddle across being an artist, a designer, a healthcare professional, a researcher and a patient.  It’s super exciting but it’s also incredibly scary – even overwhelming.

I’m kind of unique in this respect.  There’s not that many of us hybrids rocking around in healthcare, or who are “out” about it,  but I think that’s going to change dramatically over the next few years.  Healthcare is building up towards a renewal, globally, to change from being just this service where you get things sort of fixed – and that’s it – discharged.  But it’s going to change into this service that is adapted to personal needs; both preventative and continuous care – in different models.  That the healthcare education model will provide art & design training in it too – that it’s not just all numbers and science – &  proper useful & enjoyable reflective practice training. It’s going to experience a (probably very slow but) beautiful renaissance – where things will be designed purposely with and for the user; whether that be the patient/citizen or the healthcare professional, using stories/narrative and lived experience and critical reflection in the process. That healthcare professionals have the tools to design things themselves too.

Whilst I am obviously very passionate about combining all of this together I attended a talk  last week by Elizabeth (Lizzy) Scott on the Femcare information strategy (Lizzy is radiotherapist leading this project) that’s undergoing within the radiotherapy department I train at.  I originally attended due to my passion for better patient information, but what this talk showed me was exactly the reason why it’s so incredibly important to think not just in terms of information; but the design and presentation of information and equipment is also equally as and incredibly  important in being able to enhance quality of life and treatment experience and compliance.

This Femcare information is aimed at patients who have had a radical course of radiotherapy treatment to the pelvic region. The side-effects of this treatment can have massive quality of life issues in the future for these patients, especially when it comes to their sex-life.

I believe, in general, we don’t talk enough about the effect of cancer on peoples’ sex lives and relationships, and their relationship with their body. Change goes deeper than the physical. It’s emotional. It’s psychological. It’s part of who you are. We know embracing the changes in intimacy can be one of the most challenging parts of feeling ‘you’ again. Butt issues like these can be – due to the very British nature of us – difficult to broach the subject – we may just brush it off – downplay it, really don’t want to talk about and feel embarrassed. We maybe really open to discuss it. But everyone is different and we need a strategy to reflect this.

The correct information early on is incredibly important in being able to facilitate better quality of life later on for these patients.  In the talk, we were given some leaflets – which had some pretty intense diagrams of how to use a clinical dilator, and of course a dry pastel rendition of some flowers  on the front to represent femininity? – how imaginative.

If you’re able to move past this leaflet, what comes next is the the dilators we provide – which are so clinical and intimidating and cold – as pictured below:

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I can’t imagine what a user group would say about using these after treatment – whilst I can’t stress enough that they’re extremely very valid and very important – and i’m glad we do provide them rather than nothing. It makes me think the people who designed them didn’t really *think* about the user – just the use of them.

Lizzy discussed how she – too – wanted to redesign the Femcare strategy,  including the leaflet and had done some research into finding better dilators that may be less intimidating but do the job. Her efforts were rewarded when she found http://pleasuresolutions.co.uk/  – a  company with an ambition to help people reconnect and explore new realities after cancer, sexually. Whose products are specifically designed with clinicians and patients and with Japanese production as pictured below (made from a gentle Unique SoftTouch material with anti-dust coating

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I’ve never seen such an obvious need for redesign and rethinking with empathy and the end-user than in this case.

Imagine what the change in outcomes and perceptions would be if we in the NHS used the latter, widely, in practice. I suspect it would only be much more positive with more compliance.

What all this reveals to me is that we – as HCP and as artists/designers/thinkers/researchers – should use our superpowers of empathy and prototyping. Underlying both of these is a commitment to learning — learning about people’s needs, learning through experimentation and trial, and arriving at a solution through  discovery.

Creativity isn’t being used to its full potential in healthcare today. There are many other creative disciplines that have a critical role to play too. It is critical to create the conditions in the healthcare industry for designers/artists — along with healthcare ‘natives’ — to put the disciplines of empathy and prototyping into action.

When sharing my thoughts with the department (when I was asked to, lol) I said we make children’s hospitals all more accessible and aesthetically pleasing – why don’t we do that for the general population because it’s obviously do-able. They instantly jumped on, “well they’d have the money to do that”. But the fact of the matter is – if you’re spending the money on doing something anyways (as they were in this instance), or paying for clinically intimidating equipment that has obvious potential negative user-implication – it is either cost-nutural or at least more cost effective in the long-term. We need to stop blaming funding as a reason not to do something, we need to see past the short-term. Co-production/design can help us save money in the long-run through impact and investment. 

I feel like I am just at the very, very beginning of this journey but I am committed to this change. I believe in the power of creative practice — people-centered design/thinking — to radically transform healthcare.

Creative practice has the power to:

  • share and curate compelling stories that reframe issues.
  • I have the ability to synthesize complexity down to actionable challenges.
  • open up real collaborative practice
  • reimagining tools that enable rather than disrupt the healthcare workflow and empower patients/carers
  • advocating for the patient through new services, communications & products.
  • and much more.

We’ve got far to go but here’s my first and most important challenge as this creative hybrid healthcare professional:

1# People feel understood and cared for.

 

I can’t wait to see what Lizzy does to re-invision and re-invigerate Femcare to help enhance patients quality of life. Go Lizzy!

Why the student NHS Bursary is important #BursaryOrBust

The Tory government believe that Nursing students (And I’m sure it will then lead onto other allied health care professional courses such as Radiotherapy, radiography, physiotherapy, ect) don’t need a NHS Bursary to help them fund their course and cost of living.

And  they’re so wrong believing this. It’s just another way to repress the NHS as we know it. And it’s bad for these reasons.

Firstly, I would never – EVER – have had the opportunity to go to university if I got no maintenance grant (for a normal – fine art course). I entered university in the first year  that tuition “top-up” fees came into play. Now, I had no sense of money so the debt didn’t really worry me too much.  And I still don’t have any money.  But I came from a family that had NO money too. I was brought up below the poverty line. No one in my family has any qualifications. There were about 12 out of my 6th form (of 250+ students) who went onto university in the area i’m from. Are you sensing all this lower-social-economic working class, less privileged stuff here?

My mom jumps from minimum wage temp job to temp job. Ruining credit scores after credit scores – but we get by. Thanks to door-step loans and borrowing from my nan  – back and forth.

When I went to university the first time – I kept a bunch of part time jobs, I had the summer to earn more money. I would wire my mom extra money to help her out too. I didn’t get ANY help. I worked in the USA on unpaid internships because I worked in the bookies in my spare time. I left university 4 years later with a debt of around £23,000. That was my tuition fees & living loan. I had also got a maintenance grant and a university bursary. And I can’t believe ‘normal degree students’ won’t get that in the future now either. I didn’t party too much, but I had to go to London a lot as part of my course and art materials and an art degree show is expensive to put on. But I made ends meet and I don’t ever remembering feeling like I was truely money screwed. But I lived in my overdraft. I didn’t care. It was free.

Fast forward to right now.

I’m in my last year of my 3 year Radiotherapy & Oncology degree. And I CONSTANTLY feel like I don’t have enough money to survive.

I’m doing this degree because after a horrific health experience I wanted to both give back to the NHS that has saved my life, and given me so much in compassion and help. It rocked my world-view. Falling sick changed who I was as a person and my old life just didn’t fit in the way it did before. But it was also really important to me to enhance patient care further,  to get rid of those moments of care where I felt misunderstood as a patient and not really listened to. Sometimes we all just need to be listened to, even if there’s nothing you can do about the issue at hand. And there’s so many systems and pathways that can be made so much better.

And so, I thought that the NHS could do with someone like me, someone who had already done work with patient experience, who can empathize what my patients are experiencing, who thrives on doing a great job and helping people, making things, and whose passion for social justice and a better society motivates everything I do.

But falling ill had made me even more strapped for cash. I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t do my freelance job. I lost work, I lost hope. For a whole year. When I decided that studying radiotherapy would also be good for me as a coping mechanism and as a routine to get me back to functioning in the real world – to make me feel a bit human again and to understand the system that I loved and hated – i knew because my course was funded by the NHS I could ‘afford’ to do it. This was a hoop that wasn’t going to hinder me. I wasn’t discriminated against because I didn’t come from money.  If that bursary wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have been able to afford to do it.

But here’s the thing. The NHS Bursary barely covers living costs anyways. And they want to chop it?

Being a healthcare student isn’t like being a ‘normal course’ student. On my art course, we started late September, had a few essays, researched a lot, constantly worked (though this wasn’t logged) in the studio (realtively stress free) and you’d have a few assessments and shows along the way. You made it what it needed to be. As time consuming or dedicated as you wanted. We’d have a nice christmas break, and a nice Easter break. No exams. We’d break up for the whole summer around May time. And the cycle would happen again. I could work weekends if i wanted to because i did all my work during the week. I could work evenings because – well – i could go and work in the studio whenever it suited me. I had 4 months of potential time to save up from a part-time job and/or get extra experience in my area.

A healthcare course is much, much, much more and very different. We work 35+ hours a week on clinical practice. Helping patients, cleaning and setting up equipment, cleaning up patients,  letting them cry on you. You, as students, do carry quite a bit of the work – that keeps the NHS moving. But you’re being watched, constantly. You have this constant feeling of stress because you know you need something clinical ticked off, or you need to do more case reports, or case discussions/clinical examinations, you’re constantly being stretched and observed and building your professional knowledge, confidence and persona. And it’s not like the art studio, if I mess up – i can’t just come back to it, it’s someone’s life it’s affecting. Add 1-2 hours of commuting to work each way. And then time for cooking tea and tomorrows lunch. Then add on ALL of the academic work that you need to do that night and get up and go to work the next day again.

You have ePortfolio, exams, assignments after assignments, clinical competencies, IPE, dissertation, more exams. And you work ALL summer too. No Camp America for you. This is all on top of 35+ hours. But guess what, if you was doing a business degree, or a marketing or computer science degree with a work placement – You’d be paid for your work placement. What about us?

What about this Bursary?

Unlike normal degree students – healthcare students get sent across the region and the country for their clinical practice. They can be in Doncaster one placement and then in Sheffield the other. On my course people can be placed as far as Newcastle and Leister. Commuting from your house in Sheffield to Newcastle is probably going to be a no go. So guess what, you have to pay for 2 rents – often UP FRONT – out of your own money. But get this. That NHS Bursary barely covers your Sheffield rent anyways. Where are you going to get this extra cash from? How are you going to eat? How can you afford the bus to work? Sometimes it’s just cheaper to rent a place then it is to actually take public transport (which is pretty horrific) If like me, you’re just a poor kid from the Donx, whose mom can barely pay her own rent anyways, where do you get this extra money from? What happens if you’re a parent? What do you do then?

Then lets consider all this academic work on top of your clinical placement rota. Each 20 credit module equals 200 hours of study or teaching. Since you’re on clinical practice, that 200 hours is your own study time. But you’ve already worked 8 hours that day, you get home around 6-ish if you’re lucky. You need to do that work. What employer is going to be that understanding of your dodgy work pattern? And you’re probably going to be REALLY tired after finishing a whole day of clinical placement ontop a whole shift at Boots,  then go home and try to do some ePortfolio and do this ALL again. And people DO IT. That’s not the debate. But could you do it if that bursary wasn’t there at all? i don’t think so.

When you get a NHS bursary (which FYI is at the most around £380 a month) you don’t get any extra help from the university like you do on a ‘normal course’. You’re exempt from quite a few hardship funds in place within the university. And student loans will only lend you up to £2,200 a year – max. You have to work clinical placement all summer remember too.

Then lets consider all these extra costs which you won’t think about.

Your uniform has to be clean on each day. That’s 5 days of washing straight up. It’s white – that’s an extra load of washing. If you’re living in student accommodation – your washing is going to run you around 5-10 extra pound a week. You’re working all week,  and there’s something about clinical placement which makes you WAY more hungrier than in real life. And hospital canteen food is ridiculously expensive – so you have to plan ahead and pay extra in your food shopping to run the costs of a decent packed lunch to get you through the working day. There’s all the extra things too. You want to be ahead of the game for ePortfolio and job hunting – you need to go to conferences – often way expensive – even for students. But that’s part of your professional conduct and identity. Then you have your normal course costs. Really expensive course text books.

Then if you’ve survived all of this, and get to the end of the course and want to get a job. You have to pay for a licence to practice and a membership to your college of your profession to ensure you have insurance – before you’ve even got a job, a pay-check. This is around £380 before you’ve even started. I have no idea at this point where my money will come from to pay for that. We’ll see.

I’m lucky because I’m poor I get the full bursary. Others aren’t but their parents don’t help them out because they can’t afford to either. Many student accommodations are over £4000 a year rent now, which is more than your years bursary.

I work as a freelance artist so most of the time i can work within my own time-frames. However my health still sucks balls. I struggle with fatigue like you wouldn’t believe. So often I get home, and all I do is sleep. It makes doing my school work even harder on top of trying to do freelance work too. But I consider myself one of the lucky ones.

Others aren’t that lucky. Despite having my bursary and working my freelance jobs – i’m talking many jobs too – I barely make ends meet. I’ve ruined my credit score on this degree even further than before. I’ve got to the end of my over-draft and even had my card declined. That never happened to me before. But it’s because I’m paying up front for rents, for train tickets for clinical placement. For food that’s not covered by my loans.

Healthcare students don’t fit your normal format. Most enter the degree much older than your average student population. Many have children and family. They need this bursary. They too probably already have a degree like me. Their story is probably similar. They saw a loved one close suffer dilibertating illness that inspired their calling into healthcare; after having children they wanted to become a midwife; or sometimes they just needed time to mature to discover their true calling.

The NHS treats a population as diverse as you can imagine, and it needs staff that represents the population it is treating. We don’t want a select few who can afford to take on the debt or that their parents will pay everything for them. We want them as well as the people who know what it’s like to be down and out on your luck, who know what it feels like to suffer in constant pain, who have children and know what a parent may be thinking, who know how tough times are. We need people who are compassionate, and creative and passionate and brave. And I don’t want them to be priced out.

My mom has always brought me up with the belief that I shouldn’t make money a barrier. This has hindered me in different ways  – like buying things I shouldn’t have because I can’t really afford them – but not everyone is brought up with that belief and some people don’t have the emotional or financial support to be able to take a leap and do a course without any Bursary help.

You wouldn’t expect a kid to pay for their apprenticeship- you give them a terrible wage (which FYI- apprentices need to be paid more too). Nursing students, like all healthcare professionals DESERVE a LIVING WAGE. The bursary isn’t a living wage. But it’s something. Taking that away is disrespectful, it doesn’t acknowledge the hardwork and the goodwill that comes with the healthcare courses. The NHS does benefit from students. We don’t ask for much because we’re passionate about making the system better, about caring for society. It’s NOT about money. EVER. But this is forcing people not to have an opportunity, and potentially change the face of the NHS.

The consequences of not  having a NHS bursary in nursing are SO much bigger than you’d ever think on first inspection. We’ll loose our social mobility of the profession, the career progression, the mentorship, we’ll loose people applying for the course, and have a shortage ina  time that’s already suffering a shortage.

It’s bad news. And it’s not what the NHS stands for. That’s why I am standing with Nurses and all healthcare workers – for both the junior contract and the student nurses bursaries. We’re all one in the NHS. We work across professions and care for our patients and their carers and we need to look out for one another too. To the future of nursing, and all healthcare professions, and our care and the NHS.

 

 

Getting sick was (is) the worst thing that ever happened to me, but

Last week Facebook memories reminded me that the exact week in 2012, I wrote on my Facebook status that I was finally seeing a NHS haemotologist oncologist after my crazy USA medical adventure. I have certain dates etched into my collective memory, which feel like I’ll never be able to erase , even if I wanted to. But this date had slipped my memory.  In the facebook status I wrote how many people had sent so many great and supportive messages and had helped me so much. The same still stands today.
Every so often I get a message from someone who’s heard my story, seen my whining tweets/blog,  or I get contacted by various volunteer coordinators for my work with and fundraising for various charities.
Every time, I’m nervous about how the call or the email will go.
But what happens is that they get in touch and often share with me these amazing, personal, intimate stories. These stories are of hardship, courage, loneliness, heaviness, of life and death. Of feeling disempowered, the feeling of the weight of time.
Will I be able to help them? What will I say to this person who’s going through what I know is probably the hardest thing they’ve ever done? I see and feel it every day at work too.
And EVERY TIME, every day I’m amazed.
Amazed by how optimistic and brave people can be, even when they’re terrified. Amazed that even when their life, or loved ones life, was/is on the line and there’s little they can do, we can laugh together about pain, side effects, the dumb things that go along with this life with whatever the struggle is.
Raising money to try and get Radiotherapy in Doncaster ( http://justgiving.com/sarah-smizz1 ) has opened up another opportunity for people to share their stories with me. I feel constantly humbled, and touched that they’ve chosen to share their narrative with me, and want to support me too.
 It reminded me of this website a friend showed me based in Canada, about the faces of healthcare. I think I am going to make something similiar in the UK. I am going to create a beautiful visual platform to help share peoples stories to help us learn from and build better connections and services, and make us think as healthcare professionals how we connect with people. And to also help celebrate not only these peoples lives & struggles, but also how awesome the NHS and it’s staff are too.
This time of year always makes my wounds feel rawer, but my need to thank and be grateful gets more intense too.
 Getting sick was (is) the worst thing that ever happened to me, but in so many ways it brought out the best in me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it does the same in others.
3 weeks & 5 days till I can go OTT on giving thanks. FRIENDSGIVING, and y’all are all invited 🙂

#NHSChangeDay Pledges #Quality14

Here’s some people’s #NHSChangeDay Pledges that I’ve drawn on Twitter recently. I think it’s important sometimes, to have an image to help communicate/reach a bigger audience.

BlRC1WcCAAAyHRZ

 

pledge by @LAS_QI

 

BlQKLrZIEAA238t

The awesome #Hellomynameis Pledge by the awesome @grangerkate

BlTMjDMIAAAdvuA

@wlasinclair

BlCfDY4IMAAZzPx

Drawing all these pledges was only possible because of @respirologist sharing his!

BlTH18wIYAAtIC3

 

@e_arnotsmith

 

BlQRJmxIgAAm1U--1

 

@whoseshoes Pledge to help people living with Dementia

 

BliW07-IcAA8MRg

Make nurses be proud about their job @annabethAE

 

BliLZGUIUAAWDLb

 

SMILE! By @thebestjoan

 

BliHeLAIIAEYaSC

Think about the wider public health and wellbeing! @damian_roland

 

 

BliSRMeIgAAAM4n

 

@sugarpuffs66

 

BliAwR4IEAAPsDg

More smiles & hello my name is by @bexmoxon

THANKZ Y’ALL!

THANK YOU

I think about the blanket of care I have received over this past year. And it astounds me. It really genuinely amazes me that I never knew it existed for me, until I needed it to.

My friends & Family have all been amazing and supportive. My colleagues.  Strangers. People on Twitter. Doctors, and nurses & everyone else working within the NHS. Everyone has been amazing.

I feel super proud to be part of a system that looks after me, and I feel super lucky to have the friends that I do. And I have no idea how to thank everyone individually, and sound 100% grateful and genuine about it? I hope it translates, but I dunno if it does?

So I put it out there? How would you like to be thanked? What’s the best thank you thing/moment that you’ve received/had? Share with the Smizz!  Can a thank you be too cheesey? or too much? What are your thoughts. I don’t want to over do it.

 

people are amazing

Yesterday I had the pleasure of drawing another cool thing for 1 small part of the NHS. The NHS Commissioning Board, the bit where Citizens who work within NHS stuff, or the voluntary sector, and innovators get together and share their ideas on how to make the NHS the best it can be, and how to move forward the work they are currently doing. How GP’s can work better and effectively with their communities, relieving pressures like A&E admissions and so forth.

I always love doing my day job of drawing other peoples plans, ideas, criticisms, or solutions. I’ve heard  so many amazing stories by drawing it for them, from the editor of W.I.R.E.D Magazine, AMAZING individuals who did a TED talk, people who work at Google and YouTube (Technically Google now), BBC, Guardian and so on. Folks at Channel 4 co-production producers (Embarrassing Bodies live, Big Fish ect) own some of my work. I love that. I go away and think, I’ve just drawn something I had NO idea about until right now. And I love it.

Yesterday was about the people though. I think I met (and in some cases – re-met ) some of the most nicest & smartest people, ever. I can’t really explain how sort of inspired I am by their actions and stories. How we all know that there is something urgent and something at stake here. And these people’s purposes, their motivation, is about making sure that in years to come – the NHS is still ours. I heard so many cool and great ,and even touching, things that CCG’s across England are doing. How doctors (GPs) are mega passionate about really getting to know their communities. What a wonderful job to have or a great thing to be a part of? These people, every single one – from the ‘citizens’, to the organizers, and nhs workers, to the doctors, ect ect – are trying to make something work, with genuine passion. (One speakers sentiment was that usually you don’t know that you’re in the midst of  GREAT HISTORICAL CHANGE when you’re in it, until you reflect years later). I went home and googled my local CCG Doncaster  (Good ol’ Donxx) and saw that we have an awesome and lively twitter account (@doncasterccg). And I felt that, and hope that, my Doncaster CCG is (or becoming) one of the innovators of the new system change. I hope they’ll represent and do our local population proud and well.  Although, I am hoping that soon I won’t be living in Doncaster, but whatever.

It got me thinking about the paths we take. This journey that I accidentally stumbled upon has reignited my hunger for social change/justice again (not that it ever went away, it’s just gone  a tinnnny-bit dormant publiclywhilst I’ve been fighting my mystery illness shizzle). I don’t really know where to start, but I believe my new collaborative project with Paul Harrison called F/O/R/C/E lectures (Free. Online. Radically. Collected. Education.) http://forcelectures.org/ is going to be the start of something BIG.

The tragic passing of Aaron Swarts (http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2013/01/aaron-swartz/)  – an acquaintance through a project I worked on in 2009 – but I saw him as a friend in the Facebook friendship sort of way because he was such a nice person    – has only made my commitment to our freedom for free education and healthcare even more  potent.

Guys, PEOPLE ARE AMAZING. There are so many people out there who are thinking of us. In a good way. (Some that are thinking of us to exploit us – but that’s another story) BUT the people who are doing great things are trying to stop those who are trying to exploit us. Don’t you wanna be a part of it? I wanna live in a better world, where inequalities are resolved, rather than ignored or taken as an almost given. I want those less able, or most vulnerable  or someone who might need some support for the first time in their life have someone to help them out. And the people I met yesterday represented LOADS of people across the UK trying, fighting, working extra unpaid hours, for us. Thank you, guys. If I ever see my hot GP again, which I’m sort of hoping I don’t. I totally just want to tell him what an awesome job he’s doing & how thankful I am for genuine, caring people who are taking care of stuff for us.

People are amazing. Yeah!positivity