Never had I imagined having to break in and out of work. To understand the nature of this strike, you need to realise that a hospital has both clinical and non-clinical staff. The clinical staff are far more reliant on the non-clinical staff in order for the hospital to function in any capacity and to be absolutely clear, this is primarily a strike by the non-clinical staff. These include the porters, ward clerks, cleaning and kitchen staff etc. These are people who work in the health-care sector, rather than being health-care workers! It is important to make this distinction, because all too often doctors and nurses are fingered as the guilty parties. I hope this account sets the record straight.
Late on Wednesday afternoon last week, there were whispers in the corridors that chaos will erupt the next day. Management was not formally informed by any party. At 5am, union members entered the hospital premises with chains and locks, and proceeded to lock every entrance and exit. They subdued the security guards by torching the guardhouse. The situation was simple; you were either locked out, or locked in!
The shift change happens every day at 7am. Nurses that had worked the night diligently continued with their duties, and were assisted by student nurses that managed to sneak in from the nearby nursing college on the premises. That effort was promptly halted by union members who stormed the wards and laboratory, effectively evacuating all staff with threats of murder, rape and violence.
The doctors on duty the previous night managed to remain in the hospital, and stayed in communication with the many that were waiting outside. I was amongst those outside. I tried to walk through, but was promptly bundled back on to the street. Tyres burnt fervently, and the SAPS kept a watchful but somewhat condoning eye on the proceedings. I asked three policemen to escort me in, but was told that their comrades would lynch them. They remained disinterested. As we waited, the situation in the hospital grew increasingly desperate. Different departmental heads embraced different attitudes, with some of the major disciplines being nonchalant. Some of the doctors I was with knew that we needed to get in, and do what we can.
News then broke that the military was pre-occupied at Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital, and that no help would be forthcoming in the immediate future. Many of the non-strikers then abandoned ship, and headed home. Others like me parked in a taxi rank, and jumped over a dodgy fence a distance away from the strikers and got on to the premises. We quickly alerted others of this opportunity.
The hospital was eerily silent. The patients were abandoned. Doctors of all rank then worked in groups of two, and saw to the patients. Linen and nappies were changed. Food was sought by the brave dieticians who fed the entire hospital. Medication was dispensed. All patients who showed even the slightest sign of recovery were discharged to complete therapy at home. Critically ill patients were transferred to private hospitals. The hospital was closed to new admissions.
The majority of the nurses were not striking. They were simply locked out, or intimidated out. A few courageous nurses found their way in to the hospital, and got stuck in. Later we watched from the windows as the water tanker relieved the sweaty crowd. The army arrived in the evening, by which time most of the work had been done. We climbed back over the wall, and left the night staff to man their stations. A few cars were found damaged.
The level of intimidation is scary. Young interns were threatened with rape if they left the staff residence. Five beefy union members with sjamboks patrolled nearby. The apathy of the SAPS left us helpless. Those of us that worked in this environment were on our own. We were scared, but not half as scared as the patients.
Suffice to say that management remain clueless. There is yet to be a meeting with all clinical heads to strategise or respond appropriately. People are doing what they can without cohesion or leadership. Twenty-odd volunteers got in on Friday morning last week. I broke open an isolated gate to get in, and promptly got threatened with arrest for damaging hospital property. Many more have made it in today, buoyed by accounts of their fortunate colleagues the day before. Patients are being discharged or transferred en masse. To this point, no patient in the hospital has died as a direct consequence of the strike. I fear, however, that many more will die as a consequence of not getting in!
Over the last few years, the public has lost faith in state hospitals. We are hopeless. Perhaps, there is a glimmer of light in the knowledge that many doctors and nurses at Helen Joseph Hospital tried their level best for their patients. The salaries are poor, and the Occupation Specific Dispensation has been a monumental failure. However, few things in life are as priceless as a clear conscience.
By a doctor who prefers to remain anonymous
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