Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know

I held that mindset for awhile. What if I left the immunology team that crippled and nearly killed me and found out that the next team was worse?

I wanted to leave the Royal London for five years-but I was so physically damaged for the first three years that I couldn't go anywhere. And part of me figured that the cripplers would be very, very careful in the care they provided. Bad mistake on my part. Screw the devil you know!

It turned out to be a really good week, although we all know how it began. But I sent all the complaints off, and sorted out the immunoglobulin (actually, my former nurse John sorted it all out, so I would have something, rather than nothing). I spent a lot of time on the phone, talking to the delivery people, talking (as much as I could) to the various hospitals, and my friend picked me up on Sunday and took me out into the countryside for a Sunday lunch. We didn't go to the county I've been telling you about (that would be cruel and inhuman punishment), but went somewhere else. We found a little old-fashioned pub, and did a lot of walking before lunch. I walked so much I thought my legs were going to fall off-and I didn't use my crutch, remembering what Tom had told me on Friday.

It's amazing what a few words of encouragement and support can do for your confidence. Dr. Davies and Tom both told me that I can do more, that I can improve more-and I've been working even harder. My other consultants do the same: provide encouragement and support. I wish every doctor would be like that.

Yesterday I went to see the throat specialist. He stuck a tube down my throat, had a look around, and told me that my vocal cords are red and inflamed. Seriously? I have had laryngitis for eight week, of course they're bloody inflamed! Anyway, he was very nice, and told me to try not to cough, and try to be quiet. He wants to do a biopsy just to be sure-but I've got surgery in three weeks, so forget the biopsy. I'm not worried. I strained my vocal cords, boo hoo. No more talking for awhile.

Today-well, today was a cracker of a day. I went to the Royal London to make a formal, face to face complaint about Matthew Buckland to the PALS people (the patient liaison people). I had emailed them, but I wanted to do a face to face-and they were absolutely horrified.They said that the consultants have duty of care, and whether they like me or not, and whether I write a blog or not, it makes no difference, because what Buckland did was an absolute disgrace. I told them that he threatened to have the hospital red card me (ban me from all departments), and they actually laughed. He can't do that, they said. His threats are empty. However, the PALS people don't do empty threats.

Last week I also emailed a formal complaint to the complaints department at Barts Trust (I was really busy last week). That complaint has gone to the compliance department, and between PALS and the compliance department, Bucky's boss (whoever that is) will be notified, and a full investigation will take place. Allegedly. I'll wait with interest to see what, if anything, happens. Whatever the outcome, this will go on Bucky's file for future reference. If enough people have the courage to fight back and complain, then something will really have to be seen to be done.

I was asked if I want to go back to the Royal London Grahame Hayton Unit for infusions. I said absolutely not, that I had wanted to leave there for years, but I wanted to have my reconstruction first. However-I also said that I want to go back on Monday for my last infusions before the surgery. I feel that would be appropriate-and I would be able to say a decent goodbye to nurses I've known for many years. I could also say goodbye to Ania, who is a superb doctor with a great deal of compassion. I've got a lot of time for Ania-and now that she is a consultant, she is leaving to take a post somewhere else. Too bad they can't get rid of Buckland and hire Ania instead. I really like her-and that is more than I can say for some people I can mention!

So there you go, and that brings you up to date. I know that last Monday's nastiness was probably meant to get me all upset, and sobbing in the corner, perhaps having a great deal of anxiety-but that wasn't what happened. I got home, sat down with a coffee, thought about my next move, and went to work. I'm good in a crisis (usually someone else's crisis, though!). Back me into a corner and watch out. Bucky found that out the hard way, I think!

I'll keep you posted on the next chapter of the Grahame Hayton Unit soap opera-but I've wasted enough of my time (and my life) on the cripplers. I set out to blow the whistle, and blow the whistle is exactly what I did-in a very, very big way. Never allow anyone to bully you, or threaten you, or manipulate you, or hurt you in any way.

Fight back.