by Adrian Gibson

First published in the The Tribune under the byline, Young Man's View, here…

This week, my grandmother came into Nassau (from Long Island) to have an operation. Now, whilst she was doing the operation as a private patient of Dr Geoffrey Sweeting, PMH’s facilities (a theatre, nurses) were being used and therefore we had to pay the business office a fee. I personally paid the fee on Wednesday only to be told that I would have to return to the business office and stand on a line to be given an admittance document on Thursday (when she had the operation). I thought it was silly and redundant. Anyhow, when I returned on Thursday morning—after 7am—I met a long line of persons, twisting all the way to the back and then to the side of the room. I joined the line, then came off the line to find out if that was the only way to get the document (since I had already paid) and then had to re-join the line. As I waited—alongside so many Bahamians who were also lined up like cattle—I thought about how inexcusable it is to have Bahamians, who are either sick or standing there on behalf of loved ones, endure such long waits or, in my case, waste so much time. What’s more, there were cashiers/clerks at fewer than half of the windows at the so-called business office and so things were creeping along at a snail’s pace. Finally, a woman—speaking with a nasal twang—came and told those of us who were either going into the theatre or had family members going into theatre that morning to join another line. That line started with me and fortunately that moved along quickly, particularly as persons who had come early for theatre were waiting to be wheeled into the operating room.

When I went to the Eye Ward, my first encounter was with a rude nurse who seems to have wakened up on a bed on needles that morning. She manned the desk and really should’ve been manning the supply closet. Since my grandmother walks with a walker, I asked her if the anaesthesiologist had submitted a note notifying them and requesting a wheelchair for her (he had previously stated that he would). The nurse responded, gruffly and in a most nonchalant manner: “That don’t work like that! Sorry!” Oh the attitude! I refused to go off the deep-end then and get angry, as my grandmother—if she sensed that—would only begin to worry and that would only elevate her high-blood pressure before the surgery.

I then asked for a wheelchair only to be told that there were none. When they finally found one, I had to push it into the waiting/security area and retrieve her and then push grandma around in a broken wheelchair with no foot rest. In a nutshell, I had to wait for them to track down a chair and then, when they brought the broken chair, I – not an orderly or TCN or anyone – had to get the chair and roll/drive it down to the front, through big, supposedly automatic doors on the eye ward that did not open even after punching the pad at least three times – was told by a guy in a maroon coloured uniform, pushing a cart that it doesn’t work. As I was carrying the wheelchair out, I asked one nurse—who seemed to be older and a TCN or another description—if there was someone who was supposed to assist with collecting the elderly or immobile patients, and, of course, she snapped back that that was my job and that there was no one (I’ll bet if I was tipping, there would be many people happy to do their jobs).

Once I got out there, we then had to lift my grandmother from her seat, place her in the chair and ask her to hold her legs up the entire ride into the eye ward. Let’s bear in mind that she already can’t walk without a walker and so for her to hold up her legs while I rolled her in was nothing short of cruel and heartless! Once I wheeled her back in, the nurse at the desk—the first same one spoken about above and who unfortunately was the one delegated to interact with the public—told me to take her and have a seat in the yellow chairs. I could feel “the hulk” emerging as I was becoming livid with anger at the behaviour of this so-called health care provider.

Fortunately, my grandmother did not have to wait for very long as Nurse Sabrina Hepburn soon emerged from a room and greeted us cheerfully and with a professionalism that I had not encountered that entire morning. As I watched her get my grandma prepared and interact with her/us, I realised that this nurse could be highlighted by PMH as a bright spot among what appears to be a cadre of much lazier, uncaring so-called health professionals who daily masquerade as nurses on that ward (let me say, this doesn’t apply to all and those who it applies to know who they are). My sincere thanks is to Nurse Sabrina Hepburn (and also to Nurse Ferguson).

Nurses are providing an essential public service and if they cannot be cordial and courteous to the public, they need to be assigned to theatre (where they can only interact with doctors), the morgue or some backroom on a special assignment (whatever that assignment may be). It is unpardonable and indefensible when some of them—the nursing bad apples—think to treat sick people seeking help—and their families—as if they’re doing everyone a humongous favour, as if they lack the basic hallmarks of human decency with which one should treat all people, especially sick people.

Now, one would further posit that COB should incorporate a customer service session into the nursing programme, making it a mandatory course and, moreover, PMH should ensure that those nurses who are already on the job are made to take such a course, with refresher courses mandated to be undertaken every year.

When nurses, doctors or any healthcare professional is interacting with the public in an untoward manner, they should ask them if they would appreciate such conduct if they—or their family members—were sick? Would they want anyone to treat them the same?

I’d also like to take this occasion to send special thanks to Dr Geoffrey Sweeting, who happens to be the best ophthalmologist in the Bahamas. He’s the consummate professional and his work speaks for itself