|
JOBS | TENDERS | DATING |
|
|
THE SMART NEWS SOURCE | Feb 11 2012 00:52 | LAST UPDATED Feb 11 2012 00:52 |
|
'In an emergency we have to decide which baby dies and which baby lives, because there are not enough theatres," says Audrey Zietsman, a first-year intern at Rahima Moosa Mother and Child Hospital (formerly Coronation). Irene MacIntyre*, another intern at the hospital, works three jobs just to "put food on the table". Apart from her job at the hospital, which includes working 32-hour shifts every four days, with 15-minute breaks for lunch and dinner, she also tutors mathematics to primary school children and medical students at the University of the Witwatersrand. The anger is visible in their eyes and so is the frustration of their colleague, Marinus van der Westhuizen, a second-year intern at both Rahima Moosa and Helen Joseph Hospital in Rossmore. It's Monday and the three doctors are meeting the Mail & Guardian. "Why do we always have to fight and get the press involved for something to happen?" asks Van der Westhuizen. The "something" of which he speaks is a stable process for the procurement of basic equipment needed in the hospitals. "We've run out of Panado and antibiotics," he says. "This means we have the option of giving patients morphine -- or nothing." After the meeting we are taken on a tour through Rahima Moosa and Helen Joseph. Covertly, we are shown around the wards by a doctor who is fed up with the lack of equipment and shortage of staff. He does not want to reveal his identity for fear of losing his job. First is the labour ward of Rahima Moosa. Eight women, all of whom are already in labour, sit in plastic chairs in the corner of a room, waiting for beds to become available. Our "tour guide" points out a scale next to a bed. "For two years we didn't have scales to weigh the babies," he says. "So we didn't know how much medication to give them. Now we have a scale but for weeks there was no power cord, so we couldn't use it. I've spent hours filling out petty cash forms so we can buy batteries, but have still not received the money." He shows us the resuscitation machine, which backs up what Zietsman told us earlier. "We have 12 000 to 15 000 deliveries every year," Zietsman said. "And we have resuscitation equipment for only one baby. It's first come, first serve." The basin in the corner has two conspicuous signs above it, explaining how important it is for health personnel to wash their hands after seeing a patient. This is one of the most important infection control methods. The sign illustrates a method of how to do so thoroughly. But there is no soap in the dispenser and no paper towels to dry off. Van der Westhuizen had warned us about this, saying the soap dispensers often stand empty for up to a week. There is only one blood-gas machine in the entire hospital, says the doctor. Every person with diarrhoea, asthma or one of many other illnesses needs to be tested on a blood-gas machine, he says, which measures the oxygen level in their blood, before they can be given medication. Van der Westhuizen had told us about this machine. It works using cartridges of chemicals. "The company that supplies the cartridges won't give us any more because they haven't been paid in months," he said. "The hospital has 15 cartridges left, which will last about half a day. The hospital owes R180 000 to the company."  CONTINUES BELOW In a consultation room a couple and their blanketed child sit in front of a mark on a wooden screen. The doctor points this out as the place where a blood-pressure machine used to be installed before it was moved closer to a power outlet. "We ask for the equipment for so long," says the doctor, "but when it comes, the department of public works comes to put it in, and they don't understand what it does so they put it up where it's not supposed to be, in this case without access to a power point. Then no one can use it and we have to wait weeks till they come back to install it properly." In the yard stand several new benches and plastic chairs for waiting rooms. "These have been out here for a few weeks," says the doctor. "They stand here in the rain. This is an example of wastage here." Zietsman had also commented on wastage earlier. "We run out of gloves and they don't order new ones," she said. "So we have to use the expensive sterile gloves which cost much more." On the way out, we pass a large room filled with old furniture. "This used to be the abortion clinic," says the tour-guide doctor. "But it's a dumping ground now because we don't have a sister to run it. What a waste, when the waiting list at Hillbrow Clinic is a month and a half long." Down the road -- at Helen Joseph -- the equipment situation is not much better. Until this month there was just one blood-pressure machine in the triage ward, an admission ward where doctors determine how urgently a patient needs to be seen. This month the ward received another two -- but only, Van der Westhuizen says, because it's a crisis centre for the period of the Confederations Cup. The department sees 100 patients a night and each patient's blood pressure needs to be taken. The toilet in casualty is unusable, with no toilet seat and no flush, covered in faeces, and with dirty hospital blankets and bed sheets lying on the wet floor. In the doctors' quarters the lock on the door has been broken for months and patients often come in and steal the doctors' possessions. The toilet doesn't flush and hasn't had a light bulb for as long as our guide can remember. "It's not part of my job description to worry about light bulbs," he says, "but I have to do it." We try the lifts, but it seems that only half in the building are working. On the wall between the lifts on every floor are signs that read: "Doctors meeting. Monday morning: Strike/OSD." "That's the meeting during which we decided when to start striking," the tour guide doctor says. We take the stairs, which are strewn with dirty tissues and visibly dusty; the floors and walls were stripped in January for renovations that still have not happened, says the doctor. We go up to the TB ward, which is the only ward in the entire hospital that has TB masks -- even though the tour-guide doctor says "most patients visiting our hospital are TB carriers and can infect other patients and also health workers". The storage room is far from well stocked. "If I want to do a lumber puncture, I need five different tubes," says the doctor. He shows us the one type that is available. "You learn to improvise. I have to carry around my own tubes." The visible shortage of equipment is symptomatic of the greater problems Van der Westhuizen listed earlier. "The people in charge don't understand medicine," he said, "that's why there is so much mismanagement." The process of procuring equipment is another issue. "If you need something, you go to the sister in charge, then she tells you to go to the matron. No one knows what's happening. Everything is centralised to the GSSC [Gauteng Shared Services Centre]. You have to send the centre a quote for it to authorise before you can purchase anything. And that takes months." As we prepare to leave Helen Joseph, we take one last look at a men's toilet. A rather unhappy cleaner sees us go in and asks: "Are you here to fix the toilets? I have been asking for months and no one will listen. When will they fix the toilets?" 'IT'S MONEY OWED TO US' It made a good soundbite, but state doctors are unimpressed by Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi's announcement on Wednesday that he would increase the salaries of certain doctors by 50%, raising the total salary bill by R500-million to R1-billion. Doctors said the numbers are misleading and a closer look shows they will go home with just 10% more money in their pockets at the end of the month. Reacting to the announcement, doctors told the Mail & Guardian that although mooted increases range between 9% and 60%, depending on rank, they apply mostly to intangible components of the salary package, such as medical aid. "The basic salary does not go up much," said Dr Dustin Ramdass, a member of the elected Baragwanath Doctors' Committee. "When you break the overall number into the nitty gritty, it's a lot less. It includes commuted overtime, which is highly taxed, non-pensionable and makes up a third of our salaries." Back pay -- dating to June 2008 -- is also unresolved. Doctors claim back pay was agreed to in a 2007 resolution. But on Wednesday Motsoaledi said: "I don't know anything about this back pay." But doctors are sure about it. "If he doesn't know about backpay, he doesn't know much," said Dr Bandile Hadebe, chairperson of the Junior Doctors' Association of South Africa. Dr Lebogang Phahladira, head of the South African Registrars' Association, agreed. "It's not a gratuity, it's money owed to us." There remains a feeling among doctors that Motsoaledi's department is trying to give the public the impression that doctors are ungrateful. Hadebe said: "Motsoaledi is doing some spin doctoring so the community will be sympathetic to government when we strike." The doctors' strike continues in KwaZulu-Natal and the Eastern Cape, whereas Gauteng doctors are waiting until Friday to decide on strike action. * Not her real name TOPICS IN THIS ARTICLE
comment guidelines
|
Client Media Releases
IN THIS WEEK'S PAPER
SUBSCRIBE: - Paper edition - iPad edition (NEW!) - Kindle edition - Digital edition Read stories online  @mailandguardian - Top stories & newsflashes @NicDawes - M&G editor Nic Dawes @ChrisRoperZA - Editor, M&G Online @amabhungane - M&G Centre for Investigative Journ @mgfeed - Our whole news feed Advertisements |
Contact Us | About Us | Story Tip-offs | Social media policy | Online Advertising | Print Advertising | Subscriptions | Topics A-Z | Mobile Sites | Privacy Policy | RSS Feed
All material © Mail & Guardian Online. Material may not be published or reproduced in any form without prior written permission.
 |
 |