Nine Days and Counting...
Its a grey, dark and typically wet day here on the edge of Dartmoor, its rained most of the night and the river, twenty yards from where I'm sitting in the lounge sounds loud and full. All-in-all a typical October day, the trees are still green but it won't be long before they turn the colours of autumn and are blown away on November winds. There is the unmistakable smell of wood smoke as my neighbors fires are lit to lift the chill and dampness that clings to morning air and old joints. In front of me my daylight lamp shines bright, hopefully keeping my body clock set to HST (Happy Summer Time) and keeping the long dark night glums at bay. I love Dartmoor in the winter, bitterly cold crisp mornings, the ground and trees covered with a lacework of frost or dew covered spider webs, virgin snow drifting high enough for the village to be cut off and declaring a snow day when we all just go to the Taw River pub. Sitting by toasty open fires and warming ourselves in the fellowship of village life, consuming the local gossip and washing it down with laughter and strong winter ales.
But for us this year it will be different.
In nine days we fly to India for the winter, five months of sun, the warm Indian Ocean to swim in, spicy food and mangoes which taste like no hard green supermarket mango ever could.
My knees twinge reminding me we aren't there yet, years of abuse eventually take their toll. More and more the damp and cold seems to permeate my joints, stiffening and making getting out of that comfy sofa harder. I'm still mobile no motability scooter or walk in bath just yet but on turning fifty I was shocked to find my body now required me to make an "uumph" noise when sitting or rising from low furniture or when trying to get up from loading the DVD player. You may smile... but it comes to us all. When they tell you sport is good for you they omit to tell you that a life of rugby, cricket, surfing and walking on the moors will in due course give you osteoarthritis and arthroscopic pictures of the inside of your knees which look like a furry mop. Furry bits of cartilage that in the cold twist and lock and catch you unawares, plastic, ceramic and titanium await - but not yet, and not in warm sunnier climes, not yet.
This year will be different.
In April I was made redundant after 32 years of service in the NHS. I'd been a bio-medical scientist, a trade union convenor, a project and quality manager, worked in GP practice management, been a Senior Commissioning Manager, trained with high flyers at Kings Fund, become Director of Primary Care for North Devon, was Asst. Director of Primary Care for the whole of Devon PCT with a budget of 300 million quid and finished my career as Asst Dir of Independent Contractor Performance for Devon, Plymouth and Torbay. I'd also been married, had two wonderful kids, divorced and then found and married the love of my life Sarah, it was our 9th wedding anniversary yesterday. Along the way I'd also had my gall stones out, been diagnosed as type II diabetic and suffered two diagnosed periods of clinical depression, looking back there were more. i.e. I'm a typical long term manager in the NHS. But I got lucky... thanks to my length of service and a pure accident of timing, I was 51 when the NHS went through its latest convulsion which meant I could take early retirement. God bless final salary pension/redundancy schemes and all those who get to use them!!! Thanks to the Secretary of State for Health in his drive to cull management costs Sarah and I now have an opportunity usually only granted to lottery winners and those under witness protection. We get to to begin new lives. So... after 32 years living breathing and sleeping in the land of an institutional bureaucracy I expected the first few months to be strange, I wasn't sure if like the lifer released from prison I'd try to get banged up again, safe in the cells, surrounded by routine, process and procedure. Would we be brave enough to step of the cage or like tame birds sit there, door open, frightened to move.
Did we fuck!!! but more later.
You are now free to bugger off...
I actually received final notification that I had been granted early retirement driving to the airport. We had decided to go on holiday for 3 weeks to India. After the previous six months of seeking a suitable alternative job and living under the threat of being "matched" to a totally unsuitable one we needed the break. When I say notification, what actually happened was Sarah needed to check the bank account on her phone (its a long story, maybe later...). Suddenly there was a whoop and despite the seat belt she lept into the air.
We were on the M25 at the time and I nearly crashed the car.
After 32 years of service we finally found out I had been made redundant on the last day of my notice period by virtue of the fact they had paid my lump sum into my account. No "We regret to inform you..." letter, no "Thanks for your time and dedication to the service..." phone call, not even a "Bugger off!!" text. Just cold hard cash which arrived without announcement into our current account. We celebrated by upgrading to full business class and drank, ate and SLEPT on a flat bed all the way to Mumbai. Before leaving I sent an email to friends and colleagues thanking them for the help and support. I guess it must have felt like receiving the dolphins message in the Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy "So long and thanks for all the fish". They send it by performing a series of intricate jumps flips and twists just before they leave and the earth is reduced to rubble. I had got out, but friends were left to pick up the pieces.
While i'm on the subject I've had a long time to think about health service re-organisations, been there, done that, had it done to me, here are my careful observations and conclusions.
Title - The Impact of NHS Re-structuring and Re-organisation (1979 - 2013) - A Brief Critique.
Author - K.J.Hale Asst. Dir. Independent Contractor Performance for the Cluster of NHS Devon, Plymouth, Torbay PCTs (Retired)
Executive Summary - The author through a process of experiential learning delivers a critique on the multiple re-structuring and re-organisation of the NHS over a 30+ year period.
Findings - They are pants.
Recommendations - Anyone using any of the following words in meetings should be made to endure a 4 (four) week stay on a hospital ward following a "elective" operation, the time and date of which to be set at random over a 16 (sixteen) week period. Notice for the admission date must not be greater than 2 (two) days. They must also be required to park on the hospital car park for the duration of the stay and incur the cost of said parking themselves (non-tax deductible)
Phases/words to be punishable by the above
- blue sky (singing of ELO songs exempt)
- matrix (unless referring to the film with Keanu Reeves)
- stakeholders (unless referring to vampire killers e,g Buffy, Van Heilsing)
- evidence based (unless they actually have credible peer reviewed and agreed evidence - very rare)
- Modern or its derivatives e.g, Mod, Modernisation (Unless in the context of the film or Broadway show Thoroughly Modern Millie or when referring to Mods e.g. Paul Wellar, Bradley Wiggins etc,)
- Work-Life balance
- Service review.
- PDCA or Plan Do Check Act Cycle (also known more accurately as Please Don't Change Anything!!!)
- Quality (unless in referring to the tin of chocolates left over from the "Xmas office bring and share" or donated by a patient/patient's relative/friend)
The full paper can be obtained directly from the author, fully referenced and evidenced in a hostelry of his choice - but it will cost you, as you will be buying the beer.
As i said, or meant to, lost track during my rant, where was I? Oh yes, to those who are still working stupid hours, to impossible deadlines, with unreasonable managers and unmanageable staff and the press and patients - I salute you, and have felt your pain. I can offer the following words of advice, comfort and solace.
Here goes...
The people who run the Department of Health, Ministers of State, politicians, civil servants, NHS Board, Area Team (and I count myself as having been one of them) have got there by being very good at what they do. The thing is, and no one tells you this bit, what they do has very little to do with your job. They may have a broad idea what they want e.g. everyone healthy, access to care when needed, everyone to be and act professionally, a smiley happy workforce, no cost pressures or better yet no cost, tributes in the Daily Mail, to be loved and respected throughout the land etc. BUT they rely on you to get there. These are the goal hangers of life, 6 inches off the goal line they have perfected their craft, in the end of year stats they have scored all the goals what is forgotten is the midfield, the wingers, the center half, the defense, the goalkeeper all of whom have fought to keep the ball out of their own net, get it up the field and to the feet of the goal hanger. What you do is important, more important than being the secretary of state because as far as I know no secretary of state has saved a single life on their own, brought a smile of relief to the face of a parent, been there when a newly diagnosed cancer patient has just need a hug, dealt with mountains of paper and screen after screen of spreadsheets just so the A&E department has just enough money to make it through the next year. You are my heroes, be proud to be a left-back, that said some of you are also annoying fuck-wits (I also include myself in this group).
ohhh well I have finished my second cup of seriously good coffee, had my toast and now need to crack on. If you have enjoyed reading my ramblings and you have equally warped friends feel free to pass them on (the ramblings obviously, you can keep your warped friends I have enough of my own)
Kevin
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