This is what happened when I called an ambulance for my six-year-old
I called 999 and told the operator that he couldn’t breathe. The ambulance didn’t turn up for more than two hours – and the last time we went through this, it didn’t come at all
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Your support makes all the difference.Ironically enough, as I pitched the idea for this article to my colleagues at The Independent during news conference, my phone rang. The name of my children’s school popped up – which, as any parent or carer will attest, prompts a uniquely heartstopping reaction (as an aside: it is the only contact I have set to “emergency bypass”, meaning that it will ring even if my iPhone is on silent mode. That’s how worrying an unplanned call from school can be).
I answered, already panicking, but trying not to show it. And I wasn’t mad to: as it turned out – unlikely as it sounds – something had fallen on my son’s head at breakfast club. “He’s a bit shaken up, but he’s OK,” they reassured me. “But he’ll have a bruise.” My next thought? Thank god they didn’t have to call an ambulance.
As of today, at the time of writing on 20 December, paramedics and ambulance staff are on strike; allowed only to break it to deal with category 1 calls and category 2 calls “in a public place”. This means, NHS officials have confirmed, that people suffering from (for example) heart attacks or strokes may not be able to get an ambulance at home.
It follows a second day of strike action by nurses, with union leaders warning industrial action could “escalate” over the next six months if the government continues to refuse to negotiate on a pay rise of 19 per cent. Ambulance unions are demanding an above-inflation pay rise after being offered only 4.75 per cent on average.
So, what does this mean in practice? I have some idea because (this morning’s breakfast club incident thankfully not included) I’ve had to call an ambulance twice for my six-year-old son in the past six weeks. He has asthma, and when the weather turns cold and bitter, it can trigger sudden and serious attacks.
It is, truly, every parent or carer’s worst nightmare: it comes on without warning, in the middle of the night. I’ll wake with a jolt and realise he’s gasping for breath. Gasping to stay alive. It is awful, it is traumatic, it is frightening – for him, for me and for his 10-year-old sister – and it is always an emergency.
Only, on the most recent occasion, when I called 999 and told the operator to “hurry”, that he “can’t breathe”, the ambulance didn’t turn up for more than two hours. The last time it happened, a month before, it didn’t come at all. “We’re extremely busy,” the ever-apologetic call handler said to me. “I’ll stay on the line with you until we can get someone to you.” In the end, we both gave up.
But rather than paint myself as being unsympathetic to those striking, I feel the complete opposite. Thankfully, my little boy was OK – the medication he needed kicked in at home, and we were able to delay our trip to A&E – but I shudder when I think what might have happened if it had been his first episode or his first attack. Or if someone else had been looking after him. Or the trauma for any parents or carers who haven’t been down this road before.
Experiences like our family’s – which can be quite literally life or death – only highlight how broken the system really is. How much our NHS workers need to strike to make a difference. To show just how vital, how under-resourced and how overworked they really are.
Without the emergency services, we are all less safe... and parents like me with kids with underlying health conditions will be sleeping far less soundly, listening out for a telltale cough or wheeze. Yet it’s not the fault of the ambulance staff for striking, but the fault of a stubborn and bullish government who are prepared to let frontline health workers like paramedics and nurses work their fingers to the bone – during the Covid pandemic, throughout the cost of living crisis (we already know some nurses are eating out of food banks) – and who think that all they deserve in return is a measly clap on a doorstep. It’s not good enough for them, and it’s not good enough for our children.
My son has asthma and could be seriously ill at any time. If he needs another ambulance but can’t get one, it won’t be the men and women in green or blue uniforms I’ll be blaming but those at Downing Street, in suits.