News location:

Thursday, November 14, 2024 | Digital Edition | Crossword & Sudoku

Chaos as Canberra Hospital laughs in our faces

“It felt like a scene from ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. A quick stop at the now deserted reception room to call a cab, then out into the freezing cold just as it arrived.”

Columnist ROBERT MACKLIN finds himself disempowered and struggling with the condescension bordering on contempt from staff amid the daily chaos that is Canberra Hospital’s emergency department. Until he makes a break for it… 

Midnight: A blue plastic curtained cubicle among the “beds” beyond the public reception chaos of Canberra Hospital’s Emergency Department. 

THE white light of the vast room has become almost unendurable. The machines that go “ping” are spearing into the brain, as they have for the past three hours.

Robert Macklin.

Suddenly, from the adjoining cubicle, comes a woman’s heart-rending burst of sobs. 

My son Ben and I had met her briefly in ED chaos central, a short, slim lady (whom we’ll call Estelle) from Canberra’s inner south, a daily walker who that day had suffered a pain in the chest. 

She had followed us an hour later into the emergency “ward” and her story was similar to my own – ordered by a GP to the ED for symptoms of possible pulmonary embolism – that’s a blood clot that can kill you instantly or reach the brain to deliver a stroke that leaves you permanently disabled.

Estelle sobbed again. No staff was available to respond, so kindly Ben went to the gap in the plastic blue curtains and asked if he could help, perhaps find a nurse…”They just left me here,” she wept, “no one has said a word to me; and my husband is away on a fishing trip. I didn’t want to worry him. I just did what my GP told me to do…” 

Same here, I thought, though my symptoms followed a “procedure” at Calvary Private the very night it became “Bruce” which tickled me no end at the time.

Ben and I had reached the ED with my GP’s referral letter at 5pm. We then waited four hours in the Monday chaos before the call to the cubicles and, dressed in work clothes from the waist down with a gown on an otherwise naked top, we inmates occupied the movable bunks that would occasionally ferry me to the various X-ray and scanning installations. 

There was no rhyme nor reason given for the wait. Asking questions is frowned upon by the triage staff, and the nurses are given no information from the all-high panjandrums, the doctors who dispense their opinions only to junior doctors. The juniors very occasionally call by the cubicle and take some pleasure, it seems, in withholding the results of the various tests. 

“The doctor (panjandrum) is looking at it now,” they say. But there is no “now” in Canberra Hospital ED. 

At least I had Ben to chat with as the minutes turned to hours of tortured pings (in clashing musical keys) and the hours to the very edge of human endurance. Then from the blue cubicle, “I’ve had enough!” Estelle cried. “I’m getting dressed and going home”.

Ben had attracted the attention of a nurse – a kindly Filipino-Australian named Paul who did his best to calm Estelle and promised to get a doctor to at least speak to her. 

However, such was the apparent busyness in Panjandrum Land that Estelle had reached the end of her tether. Only the panicked Paul’s pleading kept her in the cubicle bed till finally an emissary reached her.

Then began a contest of wills that ended with her decision to stay because they had decided to admit her. The only problem was they didn’t have a bed in any of the wards on the sixth floor where us pulmonary embolism folk were headed. Oh, yes, I had a similar message from a different but equally non-committal emissary. 

He said the “Bed Manager” would organise it. But just at the moment there weren’t any available. There is no “moment” at Canberra Hospital ED, only a flat line with no ending. However, said the emissary, “Bed Manager” is doing his (or her) best so… “ping, ping, a-ping, da-ping…ing, ping…da-da-ping…”

My watch said it’s well after midnight. I sent dear Ben home to his own family and the big job he was handling in the APS. On went the pings; on went the minutes until at 1am Estelle cracked. “I don’t care,” she told Paul tearfully, “I’ll find my car in the parking lot and that’s it.”

A shadow passed on the other side of the blue plastic curtains. At least the sobbing stopped. Still, I raised the Bed Manager issue with another passing nurse, a youngster named Elizabeth: “What could the Bed Manager do at 1.30am to secure me a bed in a ward, short of something too ghastly to mention?”

“I wish I could be more helpful,” she said. “But I just don’t know.”

“So really, I could stay here all night with the machines that ping and the white light and the absolute exhaustion that is becoming very bad for my health?” I said.

“I’m afraid so.”

Well, I thought, if Estelle could make a break, so could I.

When Elizabeth departed, I surreptitiously peeled off the stickers that had held the scanning nodules to my chest and sides, then with a glance at the mobile (2am, almost out of charge), I called Paul. And he did his level best to keep me, even promising that the boss panjandrum herself might be along “soon”. 

But by then I knew, there is no “soon” at Canberra Hospital ED. And so, I suspect, did he. In fact, kindly chap that he is, he finally put me in a wheelchair and off we went. Marvellous, it felt like a scene from “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”. 

A quick stop at the now deserted reception room to call a cab, then out into the freezing cold just as it arrived. Paul promised to have them send the test results to the GP later that morning.

Ten minutes later down empty streets and home.

I take a charitable view, that the panjandrums really are terribly important and incredibly busy making life and death decisions. 

But does that excuse the condescension bordering on contempt they show to the Canberra folk who, with their Medicare card and a lifetime’s contribution to the Medicare levy, expect a health system worthy of the name? 

Sadly, I discovered, there is a great gap between the well-staffed facilities of Bruce Private and the condescending chaos of Canberra Hospital. The British call it the “class” system; we pretend it doesn’t exist. Canberra Hospital ED laughs in our faces.

robert@robertmacklin.com 

Who can be trusted?

In a world of spin and confusion, there’s never been a more important time to support independent journalism in Canberra.

If you trust our work online and want to enforce the power of independent voices, I invite you to make a small contribution.

Every dollar of support is invested back into our journalism to help keep citynews.com.au strong and free.

Become a supporter

Thank you,

Ian Meikle, editor

Robert Macklin

Robert Macklin

Share this

12 Responses to Chaos as Canberra Hospital laughs in our faces

Hugh Selby says: 26 July 2023 at 8:28 am

Thanks to Robert Macklin for describing his and Estelle’s recent experience. Being in the same age bracket I now know that if my GP recommends that I go to the ED that I will assure him/her that I will do so; however, I will instead go to Tilleys and enjoy a good glass of wine, in subdued lighting which hides my age wrinkles, surrounded by many happy strangers.

Happy strangers in a cafe/bar are so much better for pain relief than unhappy, stressed out, underpaid hospital staff strangers.

If I’m going to have a stroke or a heart attack I’d prefer to have it to the sound of laughter.

Ping, ping and bright white lights don’t do it for me.

By the way, we all know that any response from either the hospital management or the Government to Robert’s piece will be spin. So I have written what they want to say but won’t:

Dear patient Macklin,

By leaving your allotted bed space without permission you have let us off the hook should you soon have a terminal health incident.

That said, sharing your and Estelle’s recent experience has solved our staffing, management, and budget problems because the number of patients has dropped – a lot.

Thank you.

Reply
Jeremy says: 26 July 2023 at 2:47 pm

Well said. The hospital staff work so damn hard and some patients think they are entitled to be treated like royalty.
Some empathy for the medical community and understanding could go along way.
It’s easy to be critical when you don’t understand how the ED works.
Relax, we’re all going to die anyway!

Reply
Ana Penteado says: 26 July 2023 at 9:42 am

So well said Mr Macklin.

And the ACT government reckons that taking over Calvary ( now the hospital without a name) will serve their purpose.

The last time I went to Canberra hospital (of course, it does not compare with this terrible experience of yours) I stayed in the premises for one hour wandering like a lost soul missing my original appointment because I was told by mistake I had to be there. My appointment for an ultrasound to be performed at 9:00am became 10:30am as I was lost sightseeing the Canberra hospital. I was told to go to the sector and so departed for my mission. I was sent to the maze of corridors twice under the impression that my human GPS was faulty. My quest was to find the sector of ultrasonography almost busy but I was sent there by mistake of the reception desk. My name was not under the list that had patients waiting for a long time. I am happy to report that my private insurance took me to the National Capital hospital alongside.

But what about the ones that cannot have the luxury of a choice?

The environment and customer care was so distinctive of what I could say unsatisfactory reception/information for patients and then few steps out and I thought
I entered another world.

And now Calvary will be under such management. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Reply
Raven says: 26 July 2023 at 10:12 am

In full agreement with other already published comments, I truthfully must also wander whether the author of this article has any experience prior to this from either side of the health system. I sincerely hope the author of this article did not, in fact, have a pulmonary embolism, and is still alive to read these comments.

I have to truly earnestly ask the question of which situation might be worse for one’s health: having to wait a few hours in an *emergency* department bedspace, with some inconvenient beeping and bright lights, or having ‘Discharged Against Medical Advice’, and not dealt with the PE as soon as the scan had returned, and died as a result?

Reply
Deirdre Russack says: 26 July 2023 at 10:16 am

Entitled Canberrans – if the thought of waiting for a bed in ED is too much for you then so be it.

Reply
Kim says: 26 July 2023 at 3:52 pm

This is so totally opposite to my recent experience in ED and TCH.
The staff are indeed “under the pump”, however they are doing their very best. I had a good outcome, including admission to a ward, delivered in a timely manner by qualified staff who answered any questions I had.
Neither the ED staff nor the hospital deserve an article like this one.

Reply
Ed says: 29 July 2023 at 8:20 pm

Robert, my answer is, go to Queanbeyan Hospital! I live in Tuggeranong but had breathing issues and had the total opposite experience two weeks ago when I had heart failure and suspected pneumonia and went to Queanbeyan Hospital at the advice of my girlfriend who spent decades in both Canberra and Queanbeyan Hospital in ED. She has told me stories of the inept management and overworked nurses at Canberra Hospital. The staff at Qbn were amazing, I was in a bed in ED as soon as we walked in, saw a doc, had chest xrays in my bed and was fitted with a cpap machine very quickly to pump the water from my lungs. Tubes in both arms to give me antibibiotics in one arm while monitoring my blood pressure in the other arm and doing hourly blood tests. Then a ct scan to check for blood clots and sent home after 2 days with a clean bill of health. If I get sick again, I’ll go to Qbn before Canberra any day!

Reply
Tricia says: 31 July 2023 at 10:42 am

Sorry that you have to experience all the ping ping ping and the bright lights which is very inconvenient for you
You being able to go home independently means you are healthy enough to walk out of the ‘emergency’ which is good!
Im guessing the doctors are busy with people who ARE sick or in a life & death situation
Unfortunately like any other ED they have to triage their care
The reason why ED is always full is because people with minor conditions go there to get FREE treatment & that’s not including less fortunate people with mental health or homeless people simply looking for refuge
I have been in the both end of spectrum being a health care worker & a patient but lucky for me i had an amazing experience as a patient there
Note to GPs out there maybe refer your non dying pts to PRIVATE practice if they are covered so our public system doesn’t get flooded with entitled patients who can never appreciate free services

Reply
Jon says: 4 September 2023 at 11:09 pm

What a narrow minded summation of Canberra hospital ED. Wonder how many patients were in critical condition that night, receiving life saving care, whilst you were inconvenienced with the bright light. What did you want them to do at 1am? Discharge someone from the ward to open a space for you? Surely a hospital only has so many beds. What do you suggest they’d do once they’re full? And the way you describe the staff is so disrespectful. What would you have had the bed manager do if the hospital was full? Come and tell you what?

You compare private to public, but private couldn’t deal with your condition so had to send you to public. So I guess the private system isn’t so great either. They’re great for planned procedures that they’ll charge good money for, but then dump you over to public when things are too complicated and they’re not going to make their money.

Reply

Leave a Reply

Related Posts

Follow us on Instagram @canberracitynews