Recently I have had two experiences that reminded me why we should be grateful for the NHS. One was moving. The other was painful and slightly scary.
by Russell Cartwright
The first was watching Michael Sheen’s extraordinary portrayal of Aneurin Bevan in Nye at the National Theatre. It was the NHS’s 77th birthday, and the performance brought a tear to my eye. It felt personal too as my Dad is from Tredegar, the town where Bevan lived and imagined a healthcare system built on compassion and fairness.
The second experience was painfully real. I was admitted to hospital while on holiday in Cyprus.
Popeye’s Hospital Adventure
On the first day of the trip, I slipped by the pool and cut my elbow. It didn’t seem serious at first, but the pain worsened over the next few days. The elbow became infected, antibiotics didn’t help, and soon I had a left arm like post-spinach Popeye’s! Eventually, I was admitted to hospital.
I’m grateful to the staff who got me back on my feet. I’m grateful I had medical insurance. I’m grateful we have the NHS back home. And I’m especially grateful to Sir Alexander Fleming because without antibiotics the prognosis would have been considerably worse.
Clinical Care vs Human Care
Now that I’m home and better, I’ve had time to reflect. The clinical care I received was probably sound. But the personal care left a lot to be desired.
Here are a few moments that stuck with me:
When I arrived, I was hooked up to an IV drip that was attached to my bed. No one explained how to call for help or even how to get to the toilet.
I wasn’t given dinner the first night. The next morning, the catering lady entered looking distressed and announced they had no gluten free food. My breakfast tray contained hot water, coffee and milk, ironically lined with a paper that said “Bon Appetit.”
I wasn’t offered water until the third morning.
Staff repeatedly tried to take blood and check my blood pressure on the injured arm. When I pointed out it was the swollen one, they looked puzzled and asked what was wrong.
One nurse, who seemed to understand English, refused to use my right arm and insisted on using the left, making me yelp in pain.
Not a single member of staff introduced themselves by name.
The only person who told me their profession was the doctor.
Most check-ins consisted of a quick “Are you OK?”, usually asked while already halfway out the door.
I was lucky. I had my wife and kids nearby, with a hire car to get around. But I kept thinking, what if I’d been alone?
How the NHS Experience would have been better
The last time I was admitted to an NHS bed was in 1998. I know the NHS has faced enormous challenges since then and is arguably facing the biggest of these right now. However, after 25 years working in the NHS, I like to think my experience would have been much better.
Gluten free food is now a standard option. Hydration is taken seriously. Thanks to the late, great Kate Granger and her “Hello my name is…” campaign, staff wear friendly name badges and introduce themselves and their roles. Someone would have told me the basics when I was admitted. And crucially, someone would have taken the time to connect with me and check that I was really alright.
Not just a quick “Are you OK?” but a real conversation.
Learnings for Communicators
This experience wasn’t just a reminder of what good care looks like. It was a lesson in communication.
Connection is key. Even introverts like me need to connect and engage with someone, especially when going through something slightly scary.
Basic information matters. Don’t underestimate the impact of explaining simple things clearly to someone who may be stressed or anxious. Practical info like how to ask for help or who is looking after someone can be emotional anchors. Spell things out.
Delivery matters as much as the message itself. A rushed “Are you OK?” felt dismissive, even if it was well-intended. Tone of voice, body language and pacing all shape how a message lands.
Empathy is vital. Always consider the emotional state of your audience. What might they be feeling or thinking and what do they need?
I’m not writing this to criticise the staff. I’m grateful for their help. But there are small things they could have done to make my experience so much better.
And sometimes, it’s the small things that matter most.
My Experience Through a Behavioural Science Lens
My experience has made me think about how systems shape behaviour. The behaviour of the staff on the ward and my own behaviour during a time when I was vulnerable. The layout of my room, lack of instructions from staff, lack of signage all contributed to making the environment seem confusing or inaccessible, feelings that were heightened by being in a foreign country. Visual prompts and an intuitive layout would have made a difference to me, reducing confusion and cognitive load. Not knowing who was in charge or what was going to happen next eroded my sense of control, increasing anxiety.
What other behavioural insights do you think were highlighted by my experience?
Russell Cartwright is Head of Communications, Engagement and Behaviour Change at NHS South East London ICB, PRCA Trainer and founder, Cartwright Training & Consultancy
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