When my dad was close to the final stages of his cancer (he was in his 80s but very bright, intelligent, cogent and compos mentis) he was put in a geriatric ward at the then brand new hospital in Worcester - the Worcestershire Royal. Which I am happy to name and shame. Truth is not libel.
He was paralyzed.
He would never have eaten as they'd plonk food down next to him and walk off - knowing he was paralyzed.
When we visited, the nurses' station was mob-handed. But they just sat there openly gossiping. Right in front of us. And if you stood there waiting to speak to someone, they'd carry on gossiping and ignore you. It wasn;t a shift handover, the time I saw it (family members said it was like this whenever they visited). They were not talking about work. TV. Boyfriends. Handbags. Whatever. Anything but work.
My dad was an ex paratropper in WW2. A very very brave, tough man. But that place scared him. There was a patient with dementia who was left wandering round at night tipping other patients out of bed. He was terrified as he could not move so he could not hit the alarm. He could no longer speak, just mime/whisper so shouting for help was a non starter. He begged us to get him home to die in peace. The patients all knew this patient was dumping people out of their beds but I guess it interrupted the nurses' conversations to actively do anything to keep the other patients safe.
He had been quite an advocate for elderly people's rights and someone somewhere pulled strings and he got MacMillan nurses, GP and district nurses to care for him at home where they put a hospital bed in his living room. So he died in peace. One of the last things he said to me (whispered as he couldn't speak) was he begged me to never let them take him back into hospital even if he had some sort of crisis. He'd rather just die than go back to that hospital.
It put an enormous pressure on me as my stepmum would have let them re-admit him and it would have caused all hell if he had been re-admitted and I'd told them about dad begging me to never let him in hospital again.
This was a man who jumped out of planes under fire. I knew my dad was weeks off dying, and had to live with the stress of that on top, that the hospital was incapable and he would never forgive me if someone else had had him admitted.
When I was in (another but also the Midlands) hospital having my 4th baby, it was a busy time so they had a lot of agency midwives. I drew the short straw and got one. She left me to labour alone, doing paperwork at the other end of the room the whole time. When I said baby was about to be born, she got quite rude and insisted I was lying. I wasn't. When he was about to be born she panicked and ran crying into the corridor to find someone to help her. She reappeared with what looked like a cleaner. I could hear them panicking about a resuss trolley (very professional). Later I asked to read the notes and she'd written something about 'unexplained bleeding'. Baby took an age to breathe hence the resuss.
Luckily I had my 5th baby in Yorkshire, where the hospital was lovely and the midwives professional.