A UK patient’s ‘overall positive’ experience at MCMH

I was visiting from the UK, and getting sick was not part of my plan, but our schedules don’t always go as intended.

Fighting with fear

“I’m not going to that hospital!” I proclaimed for two weeks until a neighbour said, “Time out! You need to find out what’s going on! Look, you can’t walk and you’re crying, because of pain!” I had reached a crisis point and had to admit defeat. She drove me to MCMH’s Accident and Emergency (A&E) department, where I was admitted.

Immediately, panic consumed me, as I recalled some of the comments, I’d been told. 

“Many people dead in Accident and Emergency. They’re left until they die!” “The wards are dirty, no bedsheets and no food.” “They butcher you. They’re good at cutting off hands and feet. You better go back to the UK.” “You can’t understand what the Cuban staff are saying.” “Pray you don’t get sick and go to Milton Cato. You won’t come out alive.”

I waited three hours until I was examined by medical and surgical doctors, who explained my situation. I needed urgent professional medical attention, that required admission. However, there were no beds available on the ward. “We’re sorry, but there are no beds available, and you need to stay,” one of the doctors informed me, with an apologetic tone.

So, I spent the night on a trolley in A&E. It was uncomfortable, with no pillow or bedsheet and the mattress covered with paper towel. The cubicle was cold, and the department was noisy with loud shouting, banging of bin lids, and patients groaning in pain. However, this was a crisis, I needed medical attention, and so I had to stay.

The A&E staff worked efficiently, utilising the limited resources to deliver care. Pain relief, hydration fluids; antibiotics, all intravenously administered on a trolley. They functioned well, balancing the overwhelming number of patients, with the inadequate supplies, and inefficient work procedures.

Although pain killers were included in my treatment, an hour passed, and I continued to experience excruciating pain, and was groaning loudly. A nurse entered the cubicle and said, “I think you’re in a lot of pain. I will see what I can do for you.” He went away and returned with a stronger painkiller. My pain ceased, and I was able to sleep.

During my time in A&E, I called out several times, “Nurse! Please! I need a bedpan.” However, the response to my yells took 40 minutes. This caused distress. As I tried to control my bladder, my pain increased and so did my anxiety as I recalled the comment “Many people dead in Accident and Emergency. They’re left until they die!”

The Ward: My accommodation for 5 days

When I arrived on the ward, there were no pillows or top sheets. So, I asked a neighbour to bring a sheet and made up a pillow, using my towels.

There were occasions where bed pans were left too long before being emptied, causing a stench. There were also times when packaging of clinical items were not disposed. These were either left on the patient’s table or floo, for half the day. Conversely, during my five-day stay, I observed the daily activities of the floor being mopped and bedsheets changed.

I arrived on the ward after the evening meal had been served. I was approached by one of the health assistants, who asked, “Would like some tea and bread?” Having not eaten for nearly 24 hours, this was an offer, I couldn’t refuse. She provided a large cup of tea and two bread rolls. “Is it okay. You need more?” she genuinely asked.

Three meals were served daily. I was prescribed a special menu, due to my health condition and all my meals were provided with prearranged foods.

On two occasions I missed lunch, due to going for an x-ray and CT scan. However, the kitchen staff made sure I was fed.

Competent or not?

When the results of blood tests, x-rays and CT scan, were obtained, I became fearful of how my crisis would be managed. Would these professionals demonstrate a lack of expertise in their mission to deliver treatment? Will they cut off my hand or foot? “They’re good at cutting off hands and feet” was the comment that I recalled.  

But both medical and surgical doctors interpreted the results with confidence, explaining the possible cause of my crisis and my choices to help healing.

When I refused the option of surgery, the consultant, calmly replied “No, problem. We can investigate conservative treatment.” He informed of other foods that could help heal and prescribed a special menu. The medical consultant prescribed treatments to combat the crisis and arranged an outpatient follow-up appointment.

I can’t speak Spanish, and you speak little English!

Communication with staff from Cuba was generally problematic. They knew little English — and I know no Spanish! There were several occasions when a translator by mobile phone was used. Whilst this broke the language barrier, it was time-consuming, laborious and frustrating. There were times when the online translator couldn’t understand what I was saying. This meant thinking of another name for items, and different ways to describe problems.

For example, I wanted to explain to a healthcare worker that the drip had stopped working. She thought I was telling her that it had finished! I tried to explain several times with no success. She asked a ward nurse to assist, and I waited about 20 minutes for her to arrive.

A possible solution to this communication problem could be the compilation of a leaflet. The leaflet would display pictures of items and problems as well as text in English and Spanish.

Staff attitude

Unfortunately, there were only a few ward nurses who conveyed compassion in their caring role. They asked, “Can, I come and wash you now?” “Do you need a basin?” “How are you today?”

However, most of the ward nurses seemed to regard patients as problems. Often, requests were followed up with comments like “Can’t you see I’m doing my work? I will come when I’m done.” or “You just asked for a bed pan — you want it again! You have to hold on a while”, or “Hurry! I need that basin.”

The general attitude of Cuban staff was compassionate. They displayed empathy and kindness with a smile, a touch, and telling a joke — using simple English — with a mix of body language.

Newly qualified doctors and students were mainly caring, patient and understanding. They calmly explained the results, listened to my fears, and the reasons for my decisions. They offered reassuring words and advice. For example, “You will get better”, “You are a strong woman,” and “Your health is improving.” These words were encouraging and healing.

I had a valued conversation with one of the newly qualified doctors, who shared, “There is a need for a holistic approach. I’ve noticed that they don’t pay any attention to patient’s mental health.” I was in total agreement.

The was an ignorance of the impact of mental health on well-being, which was demonstrated by the unkind comments, the way practical requests were carried out, and body language.

It might be useful to offer ward nurses teachings of the benefits of holistic care.

Dead or alive?

I reached a crisis point because I was scared. I feared going to MCMH because of the comments and stories I’d heard. I considered that if I was admitted to MCMH I wouldn’t come out alive. This was the consensus. So, I waited until I was in a crisis before admitting defeat and agreeing to go to the hospital.

During my five days on the ward, I spoke with fellow patients who shared how they had ended up on the ward. They explained that it wasn’t until they had met a crisis or were persuaded by family or friends to go to MCMH. “I’m only here because my daughters told me I must come. My dizziness is making me fall. I asked them if they’re telling me to go to MCMH because they want to see me dead!”.

Another patient shared: “The doctor from the clinic said I need to be here. My pressure is too high. I pray they don’t start talking about my sore foot. If they do, I think my dizziness would go and me would run out of this hospital like a thief! Because they’re good at cutting off feet.”

I wonder if we didn’t have these fears if would we allow our health problems to reach crisis point? Perhaps we wouldn’t become so ill if we weren’t so scared?

The common belief is that MCMH is not a place for sick or injured people. It is not a place of care. How ironic, since a hospital’s business is to “care”.

During my stay at MCMH, there were negative experiences and observations but my overall experience was a positive one.

I arrived at the hospital in need of wheelchair assistance, in severe pain and complex health challenges. I left pain-free, able to walk, and with medication, and advice to manage my health problems.  

“I was running away from the hospital when I could have been running to it.”

Samantha Shakes

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