(1 day, 6 hours ago)
Commons ChamberAs a migraine sufferer, I am afflicted about once a week by debilitating symptoms, which always include partial blindness, and sometimes include numbness in my fingers, nausea, brain fog, sensitivity to light and sound, a pounding headache and even an inability to speak—heartbreaking for a politician. I am very lucky, though, that my migraines generally only last half an hour; other people’s can be much worse and last days. What steps is the Minister taking to improve support for migraine sufferers like me?
At national level, a number of initiatives support service improvement and better care for patients with migraine. The Getting It Right First Time neurology programme published a national specialty report that made several recommendations to improve recognition and diagnosis of migraine by GPs. Additionally, the RightCare toolkit sets out key priorities for improving care for patients with migraine, including correct identification and diagnosis, and NHS England has established a multi-year, clinically led neurology transformation programme—so, lots.
(1 week, 2 days ago)
Commons ChamberI thank all hon. Members in this evening’s debate, particularly those who secured the debate but also the many who shared their incredibly powerful stories.
We have heard from several Members about the failures at Nottingham university hospitals NHS trust to keep mothers and their babies safe. In 2019, my constituents Carl Everson and Carly Wesson were expecting their daughter Ladybird. During the pregnancy, Carl and Carly were told that Ladybird had a fatal chromosomal abnormality—trisomy 13, also known as Patau’s syndrome. They were told that she was incompatible with life and that if she survived the pregnancy she would live only briefly and in severe pain.
Faced with that devastating prognosis, Carl and Carly made the agonising decision to end their pregnancy. Two weeks after Ladybird’s funeral, they were told during an appointment that the long-term culture test showed a normal female carrier type. There was no evidence of Patau’s; Ladybird had been a healthy baby. Carl and Carly later learned that Ladybird’s death was not inevitable. It was the result of a misdiagnosis and a failure to follow national guidelines around abortion.
The Abortion Act 1967 requires two doctors to form an opinion in good faith, but Carl and Carly learned through their investigations that the second medical practitioner was, at best, used as a rubber-stamping exercise. That failure led to the loss of a very much loved and wanted child. Carl and Carly have spent six years fighting for answers—six years navigating a system that should have protected them. Today they continue their fight for answers and are working every day to ensure that guidelines around abortion are properly followed by doctors and that laws are updated if required.
The second family that I have worked closely with on this issue over the past year have been the Sissons. Sarah and Tony Sissons did not lose their son Ryan—indeed, Ryan joins us in the Gallery today—but every day they mourn for the man Ryan could have become. Ryan was born healthy, but just three days after his birth, a sequence of errors and neglect at Nottingham city hospital caused him to suffer a catastrophic brain injury. Consequently, Sarah and Tony were told that Ryan would never be able to walk or talk.
Sarah was just 19 years old, and was given no help to navigate her drastically changed life; instead, the Sissons were handed a leaflet about adoption. I understand that that leaflet is still framed on a wall in their house. Ryan told me today about how he learned to march in the sea cadets—he showed me in Westminster Hall and he was damn good at it; he did a pretty good job of walking and talking as far as I was concerned.
Last month Ryan turned 18, but he did not go out with his friends to the pub to celebrate. He is not applying to universities or doing an apprenticeship. Sarah and Tony are preparing their home so that Ryan can live with them for the rest of their lives. Sarah gave up her career to care for Ryan. She spent his childhood fighting to get that care, battling with the NHS and local authorities, attending endless appointments and mourning the big life milestones that Ryan never really got to reach.
Ryan is the oldest child being considered in the Nottingham Ockenden review. Among the nearly 2,500 families affected, Ryan is the first child. Ryan should not have been the first of thousands. The failures of Nottingham university hospitals NHS trust should have been learned long ago, but they were not. Those responsible have not yet been held accountable. Ryan should have had the chance to enjoy a happy, healthy childhood. Ladybird should be with her parents, far away from a House of Commons debate on baby loss.
Despite the efforts made today by myself and colleagues, it is not possible to put into words how the failings of the NUH trust have profoundly impacted so many lives in our community. I hope, deeply, that this Government are going to provide the justice that they deserve.
(4 months, 2 weeks ago)
Commons ChamberI wanted to share some of my experiences and, with her support, the experiences of my office manager, Becca. Becca and I agreed that the issue we wanted to raise in the debate is dignity.
Becca’s nan, Pat, lived with dementia for over a decade. She received care both at home and, later, in a specialist dementia care home. At home, the care she received was poor. When carers visited, Pat was left in inappropriate clothing, unwashed or not taken to the toilet. Her husband, then in his late 80s, and their daughters were left to care for her. When Pat moved into a care home, the quality of care improved. The staff clearly cared for her, and over time she became one of the longest-residing residents. Some carers treated her like family. But even in a good care home, the pressures of understaffing meant that dignity was often the first thing to be compromised.
Pat’s husband and daughter visited her every day. They noticed that she was frequently dressed in clothes that did not belong to her, despite everything being clearly labelled. Sometimes, other residents wore the outfits her family had chosen for Pat. As a result, Pat was often left in ill-fitting clothes. Worse, carers did not always have time to take Pat to the toilet. Pat’s daughter would have to raise that she had to go to the toilet, or that she needed to be cleaned and dressed. Every day, she had to advocate for her mother to ensure that she was treated with the dignity she deserved.
My nan, Hilda Duffield, was born Hilda Caunt in 1918. By the time she was 90, Hilda—nan—was losing mobility and suffering memory loss. Ted, my grandad, had become her devoted carer and took over all the domestic tasks. After some time, nan was diagnosed with dementia. I remember the disease becoming increasingly entangled with and amplifying her already worrisome nature. She started to become angry, flying off the handle with stress over where grandad was—whether he was in the next room or had popped to the shop. The disease took an increasing hold over her as time progressed.
My nan and grandad continued to manage together for several years, but the situation changed rapidly when grandad became ill himself in autumn 2012. When he was admitted to hospital, it was clear that nan needed full-time care. After a few weeks in residential care, she was moved to the same nursing hospital as grandad, and she was present at his bedside when he died in January 2013. They had been married for 73 years.
With my grandad’s death, my nan’s dementia worsened. She was moved to a care home near my uncle Neil in Bolton, as he and my aunt Eileen would be able to spend time with her during the day. I, however, never saw my nan again after she moved to Bolton. By all accounts, by that stage she had no memory of me or of much of my family. She spent her days hallucinating and had become abusive to care home staff; I remember my uncle Neil telling me how he regularly heard her screaming words he did not know she knew at people who were trying to help her. We decided as a family that there was no benefit to me or to several other family members visiting, and that it was better for everyone who could to remember her as she was before her mind was taken by that cruel disease. I do not know if that was the right thing to do. I never will.
By the end, like Pat and so many others who suffer with dementia, my nan had lost her dignity to that disease. She had lost everything and needed those around her to maintain her dignity for her. In Erewash and across the country, so many more have stories like those I have shared today. Not all those suffering have someone who can advocate for them, but I hope I have gone some way towards doing so today, as have my colleagues across the House—my gratitude goes out to all of them.