Friends of the Appeal
A Letter to St. Vincent’s from a carer
Bruce Walker recently wrote to St. Vincent’s after his friend, Graeme Robinson (a former theatre staff member at St. Vincent’s) died of Cancer in December 2007.
Bruce stepped in to take Graeme to his appointments at the hospital when he learnt he was getting there by public transport. He was anxious and fearful of what he may see and experience – but within the first couple of hours his fears were allayed.
He said:
“To experience the cheery reception, observe the collegiate nature of the staff and the patient’s obvious trust was a wonderful experience for me. A whole world of dedication, resolve to make a difference, good humour, patience and above all warm humanity blew me off my feet. It may be an odd thing to say but I have thanked God for that amazing transformation because without the confidence the staff instilled in me, I would be the poorer. I’m not sure that they would be aware of the impact that they make on all those they come into contact with…not gushy or sentimental, but rock solid realistic stuff which people connect to.”
However, Bruce also observed something which disturbed him very much.
“I watched as the professionals went about their duties in an environment which reminded me of a state primary school building of the fifties. An inappropriately designed working environment and far from user-friendly, grim décor, thread bare furnishings. The consultation rooms used by doctors are dreadful and I believe a disgrace in 2008. Indeed a classic rabbit warren in no way purpose designed or even properly renovated”.
“Until I spent time in the Department I thought, when passing the corner of Nicholson Street & Victoria Parade, that the ancient hospital buildings there were derelict and awaiting demolition!”
“I salute every member of staff I had the pleasure to see at work and pray and hope the conditions where they work with very sick people can be made new again. New with both staff and patients (and their loved ones) in mind. This dream will progress the healing process. An environment of calm and energy. If attention is given to flexibility and versatility it will allow privacy when needed and community when appropriate. Characteristics which I observed to be nearly impossible currently”.
“A centre which allays fear and promotes a positive attitude in all who work and visit there complimenting one another’s quest for healing and compassion. This is a centre that is needed urgently. I wish those who continue their special vocation well and pray for God’s blessings”.
We thank Bruce for allowing us to share his letter with you. It says it all – this is a centre that needs to be built urgently and we hope that, as you read through the document you will see the future vision of cancer care at St. Vincent’s for our patients, for their families and for their friends.
A Letter to St. Vincent’s from a Patient
A letter from Ros Tassicker – past patient.
December 2006
I’m writing after calling in to the Oncology Unit today to wish staff happy Christmas. It is a joy to see them. It is also a joy to be well, really well, to know that the bed, cytotoxics and pumps waiting to run are not waiting for me. I was prompted to reflect on my first visits to the Unit 18 months ago when I was considering further treatment following surgery to remove a bowel tumour.
Having a tumour, in some respects, is an easier diagnosis than some. It is generally understood in the community that cancer raises all sorts of anxieties, uncertainties, and often entails unpleasant treatment. But there often IS treatment that can improve the odds, and/or provide likely cure. Similarly, most in the community understand and respond to the word ‘chemotherapy’ – with gasps, looks of horror, eye rolling and so on. (I needed to think of chemotherapy as taking out health insurance). Chemotherapy gets a lot of bad press. Some of it is deserved. Some of the side effects are difficult and distressing, and I am aware that some treatment regimes are considerably more demanding than the treatment received. But perhaps some of the bad press associated with chemotherapy is avoidable, and I continue to think about ways I could personally contribute to discussion about it, and is the reason for writing now.
When any person newly arrives at the Oncology Unit as the patient, there is usually a longer term social/psychological history with cancer In my own case, I had looked after my Mum with two different cancers, worked in the area briefly, helped my Dad, and a few others close to me. I had seen several recover, or live a long time after treatment, But I had also been with my Beloved as he died with relapsed leukaemia. I had exceptional horror at the prospect of having chemotherapy myself. The first few visits to the St Vincent’s Oncology Unit made very strong impressions. Bars on the windows, echoing corridor, a sign saying patient lounge but which led to a storage area with a crash cart, and general atmosphere of being tucked away and forgotten about – gave me a sense of being trapped and added to my apprehension. I recognise that some of the visual confrontation may be unavoidable, such as other sick patients and fluro coloured sharps and hazard containers.
The overwhelming good of the staff also impressed me from the outset. Despite the surrounds, staff created an atmosphere that was cheerful and personal. I was struck that staff immediately recognised who I was (the new patient) and called me by name. I appreciated the amount of time and information they provided, as I needed and asked for it. Staff recognised and responded to my particular fears and needs around treatment, and gently coached me through the physical and emotional gearing up that was needed. They were also there for my 19 year old daughter who was my main ally through treatment (and for other friends and family, as they were to be involved). The decision to take further treatment was not a quick or simple one, but when I decided I would, I wanted to be at St. Vincent’s because of the expertise and atmosphere of caring created by the staff in the Oncology Unit.
I felt some disappointment that while my Mum visited me most days during the 8 days I spent in the in-patient block following anterior resection, she didn’t visit or accompany me on any of the 60 treatment days at the Oncology Unit. She commented that the Unit was in an older section of the hospital. While the physical location of the Unit may not have been the only difficulty for her, had the unit been in a more pleasant environment, I think it is likely she would have visited. I also suspect a colleague, previously treated for lymphoma and who had intended to visit, reneged because he learned the Unit was in an older section.
Over the 12 months of chemotherapy (May ’05 to May 06) I responded to several questionnaires/surveys on quality of care and patient experiences in the Oncology Unit. I was relieved to learn that patient needs were being taken seriously, their views sought, and the need for a better treatment environment was recognised. Better still, I was excited to learn that there were serious plans in motion to relocate to an updated facility.
On my last review in Mid November, I asked about timing for the much-needed relocation. I was dismayed and distressed to learn plans were on hold.
The current physical environment does not do justice to the quality of care the staff provide in this demanding field. While there have been obvious attempts made to maximise the potential of the current setting, it now appears to me to be woefully outmoded. The anxiety/terror of patients coming for treatment could be reduced by a more appropriate environment. Can you please present my concerns to whatever group has responsibility for moving plans on. There IS opportunity to rewrite some of the bad press about chemotherapy.
Sincere regards
Ros Tassicker
