I did my drop-in this week. Visiting the ward.
The Stroke Ward moved premises around a month or six weeks ago. They've moved a couple of times in recent months, although none of the moves seem to have led to upgraded facilities. Anyway, the latest premises contained a room designated a "Quiet Room", a quiet area for relatives to take a pause.
We (the charity) also used the room both as a place to rendezvous, and a place to display a lot of our literature. I mean, strokes obviously take some time for people to get their heads around, so the Stroke Association's small A5 pamphlets, covering a variety on different topics, are quite useful. They would be to me, anyway, if I were a relative.
Anyway, I rocked up on Wednesday and found that the Quiet Room door was closed, and a staff meeting was going on inside. Furthermore, the door now had sheets of paper with calendars on them, nice neat hourly slots throughout the week. So clearly, some enterprising member of staff has hit upon a new room to have meetings in.
Tough luck, relatives.
For two hoots, I must admit I'd stop volunteering there. Whatever benefit relatives might gain from having this resource, somebody has decided that the clinical need is greater. I do end up wondering why I should give my time to chat to relatives, when they are so far down everybody else's list. But the reason I offered to volunteer in the first place is because I didn't think their standards were particularly brilliant. So I'm not really surprised, but was disappointed enough to contact the hospital again when I get home. I doubt I'll hear anything back.
BEFORE YOU START: Please note that although I currently volunteer for both the Stroke Association and Age UK, the views expressed in this blog are strictly my own. I am not a spokesperson for either (or, indeed, for any) organisation, and I accept complete responsibility for the views expressed herein. I've tried to use the Glossary to explain any ambiguous terms, but if you think there is anything I've missed, please message me.