A while ago I changed the name of this blog so that I could blog about anything and not just education. It may or may not surprise you to learn that I have strong opinions about lots more than education! By the way, my ‘obsession’ with education and my willingness to go off message is born out of real fear that by embracing “progressive” approaches we may in fact ruin what is a pretty good education system by international standards – and all on the basis of hunches and speculation. And I have a son who is nearly twelve and I want him to receive a solid, rigorous education.
So today I’m going to make my first foray in things other than education. And what I’m going to talk about is the health service.
During, and in the aftermath of the election, I’ve been struck by how many people have tweeted things like “the health service is dysfunctional” or “we have a third world health service” and I find myself becoming very defensive. Because I owe our health service a lot.
I know the public health service well and I am well aware of its shortcomings. I often get frustrated by it. I don’t have private health insurance so every medical interaction I’ve ever had has been with the HSE. (Incidentally, young medics are fantastic – we don’t need to fiddle with entry requirements. Maybe we should look at their insane workloads instead.) I suspect many commentators, including academics, have little experience of the public health system since they’re more than likely to be on a health insurance plan in their place of employment.
But here’s the thing: As many people will know I was born with CF and in 2002 I had a double lung transplant (in Newcastle in northern England before our own unit was set up in the Mater). Then on New Year’s day, 2011, I had kidney transplant in Beaumont – kidneys don’t like immunosuppressant drugs.
That’s all grand and not a defining part of my life, but for the purpose of this blog it means that I have a relatively unusual insight into the working of the health service in Ireland.
And here’s the thing: the Irish Health service does a lot of things brilliantly. I owe my life to it. When it plans sensibly, and adopts well thought-out strategies, it is wonderful. The lung transplant unit in the Mater was set up around 2000 and it is now the third biggest centre in Europe and has survival rates as good as anywhere. If I ring my team tomorrow they will be on the case, essentially immediately. It’s a wonderful service, definitely not third world.
The key problem in the Health service is the lack of capacity to deal with the randomer who comes in off the streets with, for example, chest pain, and has no prior connection with the hospital, and has no understanding of how the system works. They don’t understand that the team on call may not be the team most appropriate for their specific problem. And they don’t understand why they have to wait for a while, even days. I’ve been one of those people on ta trolley and to honest, it was a big relief, and I knew I was being looked after, even if the circumstances were not ideal. The randomer tends not to think like that.
My main concern with the health service, and I’m reluctant to say this because I respect so many people I’ve interacted with over the years, is that it often lacks compassion. We don’t deal with, for example, pain relief, very well. Maybe it’s a Catholic thing, par crucem ad lucem and that all that. When I was in Newcastle the attitude was that you need to be pain free to mobilise. Hence when I woke up in pain during the night, the nursing staff insisted that I drank a thimble of morphine and gave me an heated pack to hold against my chest. In Ireland I suspect I’d have been offered a couple of paracetamol.
We do need to change attitudes as well as systems.