I’ve wanted to write in support of junior doctors for a while. Then yesterday Facebook kindly shared memories of 14th Feb over several years. This included Rosie having her first internal bleed. Very romantic. So I read her blog for those days. And it reminded me
of the very sweet junior doctor in A and E. Who kept Rosie calm and interested. Who arranged tea and toast for me, at which point I knew this was pretty serious. Who patiently organised a bed on a ward. Who dealt with many more people. And who, several days later, came to find Rosie to see how she was, because she had been so worried about her. Who said hospital was no place for a young girl like Rosie, even though she was not much older herself.
Of the junior doctor who made the call on the night of Rosie’s biggest bleed that whilst she was terminally ill, she was only 19 and it was worth fighting for her to have a bit longer.
Of the junior doctors who answered that call and came in with the consultant that Sunday night, who were so eager and keen to do what they could. Who made Rosie laugh and told her what they’d really like to be doing at 3.00 am in the morning.
Of the junior doctor who was on duty the night Rosie died. Who treated us with such compassion. Who decided Rosie shouldn’t be hooked up to machines for her last hours. Who wept when she had to confirm there was no longer a heart beat.
At the time, it hadn’t really registered that they were junior doctors. But they were. All of them working in those death/life early morning hours, always on a weekend. Taking decisions which gave us those wonderful extra weeks with Rosie, and creating a place where Rosie felt safest. Not at home, but surrounded by people around the age she would be now.
Don’t you think the jobs they do, and the decisions they make are worth more pay than they would earn in a supermarket? Don’t you think they deserve all of us to nurture them and to make their working life as safe as it can be, so they can give the best treatment they can? Don’t you think the government should listen? I know I do.