I was so sorry to hear of this young man's death, and about the complete lack of care he received from the 'caring' profession. Sadly I am not surprised. This thread alone tells many shocking and sad stories of patients receiving incredibly poor treatment. It makes me so bloody angry.
Of course all nurses are not bad, but one thing I noticed when DH was in hospital was that the majority of nursing staff we had contact with just did not listen. There were so many times, when DH was no longer able to move himself, that nurses would just come in and barge his broken and painful body about, ignoring his cries for help and causing him further agony...as if the cancer eating away at his body was not enough.
There was the time that DH had just had a catheter fitted. A few minutes later he was screeching with pain. I had never seen that amount of pain displayed by anyone before and I hope I never have to again. I pressed the buzzer and ran to get a nurse. One arrived a minute later. Didn't look at DH (or me), didn't ask what the problem was, didn't listen to what we were saying. He just looked at the chart, muttered something about morphine and buggered off. DH obviously was still in absolute agony. I ran and got another nurse who did listen. Took one look at the catheter and realised it hadn't been fitted properly. Fixed it and immediately you could see the pain disappear. Old twatface idiot nurse sauntered back 15 minutes later with a shot of fucking morphine. DH didn't need morphine: he needed to pee.
After a while of being on the oncology ward (you'd think the clue to the nursing staff would be there, and that their patients were pretty fucking sick and needed to be treated with care, dignity and respect), DH refused to stay there. We would be kicked out at midnight, leaving him tearful and scared - a 6'2" strong, dignified man, scared of what the nurses might, or might not (neglect of basic needs was par for the course), do to him. When he had to go back in to have a blood transfusion, he insisted on being admitted privately. The staff on the private ward were no fucking better, charging about like bulls in china shops, not listening, not caring, not taking any responsibility for any of their actions (actually some of them appeared terrified of doing anything). At least though there I could stay with DH overnight, so that I could insist that he at least received a level of care.
Why would anyone do this? Whatever their profession? Regardless of quotas and targets and budget cuts/rises? Why wouldn't one human being, on seeing another human being in pain and distress, go and help that person? To look them in the eye and ask them what was wrong? What they needed? I just don't get it.
I could write so much more about some of the treatment DH received during his last month or two, but I want to respect his memory. Also, I have blocked many things from my memory as they are just too awful to think about.
Thank God for organisations like Macmillan and for hospices. At the hospice DH was at, every single member of staff treated him as a person, whose life was still valued even though it was going to end far, far too soon.