A person at the worst time of their life is always weak and here we get to the real, difficult, core of the power imbalance in healthcare. The weak are vulnerable not just to headline-worthy overt abuses but to a more insidious drift between institutional concepts of their needs and their actual needs. To the healthcare provider it's just another day; they're unlikely to be questioning the norms by which they work and are, in any case, probably powerless to change them. An extreme example is the hospital that recently had acute surgical patients waiting, unsupervised, on trolleys in the corridor because the surgical admissions ward was full but keeping them in A+E any longer would breach the four hour target.
The solution to this problem, we are told, is patient choice but is this anything more than an overstretched metaphor masquerading as policy? The idea of a market for healthcare is simple enough for, say, laser eye surgery but having the worst day of your life, or being chronically ill, is probably not analogous to buying a car in any meaningful way. The idealised rational health consumer that the policy is predicated upon bears little resemblance to real patients. Many patients are, and will continue to be, trapped. Trapped by the location of the relatives whose visits will be their main, perhaps only, form of psychological support. Trapped by the denial, loneliness, fear and impotent anger that attends a hospital admission. Trapped by a faith in the medical staff and a quiet fear of displeasing them. Trapped by disease processes and drug treatments that often make dispassionate analysis a near impossibility.
Patient choice is important; for the reasons above, not despite them. If, however, choice is to be anything more than a fig leaf for quiet privatisation then the way in which it is provided will need to reflect the reality of those that it is provided for. Failure to do this will produce nothing more than an extension of choice for the rich, the supported and the well. Staff need to be able to offer choices and support the making of them and organisations need to prioritise this, even where it could potentially cost them money. So if patient autonomy is the ideal, and its a very good ideal indeed, then what is required is a fundamental shift in practice of all the healthcare professions, a complete organisational restructuring of every healthcare provider in the country and a Department of Health that provides strategy instead of band aid solutions and hype. This requires evolution, not revolution and this kind of directed incremental change is all but impossible in an organisation that undergoes a major structural reorganisation every year or two.
This cyclical structural change is now so entrenched that it doesn't merely dominate the discourse; it has become the discourse. The government quickly becomes panicked that the last changes have had no discernible effect, the restructuring begins anew, the organisations spend more resources administrating the changes, the managers spend more time implementing them, the clinicians more time adapting to them and so patient care becomes ever more technocratic, remote and dysfunctional. So the wheel spins again and with every spin everyone's role becomes more dislocated and more immutable. The government; any government, doing anything, are no longer the strategic brains but the enemy "attacking our NHS". The managers, instead of bringing an essential layer of coherence to one of the largest organisations in the world are "taking money away from front line jobs". The nurses, burnt out and facing impossible staffing levels, "don't care". The patient, alienated first by illness and again by institutions, is left with the unenviable role of the noble victim.
To recognise the truth to any of these characterisations and demand wholesale reform is to do little more than demand another spin of the wheel. But to deny that the government is hysterical, the managers preoccupied and many staff hardened by exhaustion is to ignore the realities of the situation. A more nuanced approach is required and, from Parliament, a more humble one. Every healthcare system in the world faces massive challenges in the years ahead, any healthcare system worth having will be expensive and the NHS in particular has deep cultural problems that do require addressing. It's hardly surprising that every new government is tempted by utopian reform but for the wheel to stop the NHS needs something far less dramatic and infinitely less fashionable. Piecemeal social engineering; fix the bits that are broken and allow the structure to evolve. Such an approach might even allow the deeper culture to adapt and the changes to be informed by empiricism rather than ideology but perhaps I'm veering into utopian visions myself now.
This has been an broad, philosophical post, barely touching on the details of the current Health and Social Care Bill but this context is important. If everything changes then, once again, nothing will and all those people having the worst days of their life will be left a little more alone by an organisation slowly losing its human face.
Patient choice is important; for the reasons above, not despite them. If, however, choice is to be anything more than a fig leaf for quiet privatisation then the way in which it is provided will need to reflect the reality of those that it is provided for. Failure to do this will produce nothing more than an extension of choice for the rich, the supported and the well. Staff need to be able to offer choices and support the making of them and organisations need to prioritise this, even where it could potentially cost them money. So if patient autonomy is the ideal, and its a very good ideal indeed, then what is required is a fundamental shift in practice of all the healthcare professions, a complete organisational restructuring of every healthcare provider in the country and a Department of Health that provides strategy instead of band aid solutions and hype. This requires evolution, not revolution and this kind of directed incremental change is all but impossible in an organisation that undergoes a major structural reorganisation every year or two.
This cyclical structural change is now so entrenched that it doesn't merely dominate the discourse; it has become the discourse. The government quickly becomes panicked that the last changes have had no discernible effect, the restructuring begins anew, the organisations spend more resources administrating the changes, the managers spend more time implementing them, the clinicians more time adapting to them and so patient care becomes ever more technocratic, remote and dysfunctional. So the wheel spins again and with every spin everyone's role becomes more dislocated and more immutable. The government; any government, doing anything, are no longer the strategic brains but the enemy "attacking our NHS". The managers, instead of bringing an essential layer of coherence to one of the largest organisations in the world are "taking money away from front line jobs". The nurses, burnt out and facing impossible staffing levels, "don't care". The patient, alienated first by illness and again by institutions, is left with the unenviable role of the noble victim.
To recognise the truth to any of these characterisations and demand wholesale reform is to do little more than demand another spin of the wheel. But to deny that the government is hysterical, the managers preoccupied and many staff hardened by exhaustion is to ignore the realities of the situation. A more nuanced approach is required and, from Parliament, a more humble one. Every healthcare system in the world faces massive challenges in the years ahead, any healthcare system worth having will be expensive and the NHS in particular has deep cultural problems that do require addressing. It's hardly surprising that every new government is tempted by utopian reform but for the wheel to stop the NHS needs something far less dramatic and infinitely less fashionable. Piecemeal social engineering; fix the bits that are broken and allow the structure to evolve. Such an approach might even allow the deeper culture to adapt and the changes to be informed by empiricism rather than ideology but perhaps I'm veering into utopian visions myself now.
This has been an broad, philosophical post, barely touching on the details of the current Health and Social Care Bill but this context is important. If everything changes then, once again, nothing will and all those people having the worst days of their life will be left a little more alone by an organisation slowly losing its human face.