Hazel McHaffie

bullying

Whistle blowing

To err is human, to cover up is unforgivable, and to fail to learn is inexcusable.
Prof Sir Liam Donaldson (former CMO England)

Whistle in the Wind has to be the most disturbing book I’ve read this year – and probably not best tackled when we’re all rather dispirited about the rising Covid numbers, and increasing restrictions on our freedoms. Hey ho! Once started I couldn’t go back.

It tells the story of one NHS senior consultant surgeon’s battle to get his hospital/Trust to take action in the face of a catalogue of failings and dangerous practices in his place of work – abysmal clinical standards, gross imbalances in workload, extremely poor judgements, shirked responsibilities, dysfunctional relationships, financial irregularities. But the ‘guilty parties’ resented Peter Duffy drawing attention to their deficiencies, and mounted a deliberate campaign of victimisation and counter accusations against him.

At the time, the Trust’s website declared that no whistle-blower would lose their job or suffer any detriment if they spoke up to identify genuine patient safety concerns – a claim made by most large organisations nowadays. But the reality was far from the promise. Even more unbelievably, the same Trust had recently had its Midwifery Department found guilty of gross and shocking failings, a fact plastered over the media, but senior management nevertheless still appeared complacent and apathetic. Ranks closed. Honesty and truth were stifled.

Hugely daunted, Mr Duffy nevertheless eventually reported his concerns to the Care Quality Commission whose job it is to oversee safe and effective practice in health and social care settings. Until I read this book, I thought they were indeed the go-to organisation for action and a fair independent hearing. But in his case, they didn’t even attempt to corroborate his account. And furthermore, they specifically state that they will take no part in protecting the individual whistle-blower. Who knew?!

Retaliatory action against Mr Duffy escalated, and included not only malicious, false, fabricated and covert accusations – defamatory emails and letters claiming he was both racist and a bully, and had fraudulently obtained money to which he was not entitled – but also docking a substantial sum of money owed to him, and eventually loss of his job.¬† Accusations against him were sent to the police as well as senior management. He even received a phonecall warning him that the consultants he had reported were ‘utterly committed to revenge’. He felt ‘thoroughly hated and despised’.

In spite of his senior status and established good reputation, no one in any of the organisations set up to deal with such situations seemed to be paying any attention to his legitimate and proven concerns. There was no feedback, no support, no action.

How this man coped with seeing continuing incidences of neglect, malpractice, avoidable harm or deaths, on top of the personal vendetta against him, I really don’t know. I once blew the whistle in a much more low-key way and suffered from the aftermath of the ensuing hostility and injustice for years. Reading this book stirred the embers of that horror quite stressfully. Finally, even Mr Duffy had no appetite for submitting reports of sub-optimal care which went unheeded; he felt intimidated and frightened by the hostility and retaliation.

By now the toxicity within the hospital  Рongoing rudeness, aggression, hostility, dysfunctional behaviour and relationships, collusion, incompetence, cover up, neglect, dangerous practices Рtogether with his own fear of some act of revenge, led to his health suffering seriously. Sleeplessness and high anxiety levels led to him suffering cardiac arrhythmias, ending up a patient himself.

But his conscience and professionalism would not allow him to turn a blind eye when the lives and dignity of patients were at stake. The General Medical Council‘s position is, after all, unequivocal:
Doctors in particular have a duty to act when they believe patient’s safety is at risk, or that patient’s care or dignity is being compromised. Our guidance sets out our expectation that all doctors will, whatever their role, take appropriate action to raise and act on concerns about patient care, dignity and safety.
He felt the weight of this duty keenly.

Colleagues and friends, however, seeing how he had been treated, were reluctant to expose themselves to the same retribution. Even when his case came to an Employment Tribunal, disclosure was limited. Witnesses were warned off from supporting him; they could neither appear nor have their witness statements seen by the Tribunal. And just four working days before the case was heard, the Trust issued an intimidating letter, telling Mr Duffy he was doomed to lose his case, and they would be pursuing him and his family for costs estimated at £108,000. However, if he would just agree to drop the case immediately in its entirety, remain silent, and agree to a non-disclosure clause, then they would not pursue costs.

To his great credit, he did not give in to these strong-arm tactics. And he was eventually exonerated, but the triumph was something of a pyrrhic victory. Even though this case was deemed an across-the-board failure on the part of the Trust and the clinicians concerned, nothing much has changed, Mr Duffy laments. Systemic failures are still ongoing; lives are still put at risk avoidably; whistle-blowers are still treated as lepers. Furthermore, he and his family have paid a colossal price for his integrity, courage and commitment to patient safety. In a massive understatement, he says he still struggles to believe the tactics adopted to silence him. I recognise that sense of incredulity and bewilderment all too easily.

The NHS, regulators and the law, all repeatedly claim the importance of safeguarding and speaking out to protect others; and they have a clearly stated duty of care to clinicians and patients. They offered this particular whistle-blower neither care nor protection. I can well imagine writing this book was cathartic for its author – at last he could present his case in its entirety. And I thank him sincerely for doing so. It was, in the end, therapeutic for me too – putting me clearly into the camp of ‘committed, responsible, caring individuals’ who summon up the strength to stand up to those who hurt or bully the vulnerable. The fact that it’s not a literary masterpiece, adds to its feeling of authenticity. It’s an unvarnished, from-the-heart, account. I can only admire the persistence and courage behind it, and wish the Duffy family well in the future.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Comments

The Last Thing I Remember

Having just been challenged by a return to psychological thrillers (as reported last week), I was in the mood to test my lockdown mettle by a bit more skirting around the edges of insanity. Deborah Bee‘s thriller, The Last Thing I Remember jumped out at me.

The author’s unusual background intrigued me too: fashion editor, magazine writer, creative marketing director. Hmmm.

There are two narrators alternating chapter by chapter:
Sarah is in an ICU with an extremely serious brain trauma, in an induced coma, following a supposed mugging. Since there are no outward signs of her consciousness returning, and she’s unable to open her eyes or move a single muscle, the staff, her family and the police all tend to be indiscreet in her presence. She discovers a number of facts: there is little expectation of recovery; she could be in a persistent vegetative state or locked-in; her husband Adam is dead; her father loves her dearly but her mother is more interested in returning to her suburban life. She’s also painfully aware that she’s being threatened – by a man who smuggles himself into the hospital claiming to be her brother. But she doesn’t have a brother …

Kelly is a bolshie, foul-mouthed teenager, from a seedy London secondary school, Sarah’s next door neighbour, and now a constant visitor at her bedside. Why? Breaking the habit of a lifetime, she reveals more and more of her own story as well as Sarah’s. We see a formidably tough, strong kid who has learned the hard way how to fend for herself in the face of cruelty, injustice and danger, who has her own moral code, her own way of seeking justice. Her friendship with Sarah is an unlikely partnership based on a shared understanding, and a determination to win through against the odds.

As the hours and days pass, Sarah, trapped in her unresponsive body, gradually pieces her own narrative together, coupling overheard conversations with flashes of returning memory. Kelly is dogged in her efforts to bring Sarah back to a sentient life; she has her own reasons for wanting to communicate with her friend and mentor. Together their contrasting voices tell the tale … a tale involving dark issues: bullying, gang crime, domestic violence, paedophilia. And the emerging picture highlights the ripple effect that can, in the end, destroy lives and wreck families; how easy it is for a moral compass to swing away from true north. In the same circumstances, would any of us do better?

I confess I wasn’t a fan of the repeated use of the f-word, or ‘like’, or repetitive phrases, in Kelly’s sections, but I could admire the plotting and development of the characters in this debut novel. It certainly held my attention and offered real distraction. Thank you, Deborah Bee; you were part of this week’s therapy!

 

, , , , , , , , , ,

Comments