We’re often too busy looking after other’s needs. That’s the job.  But the powers that be don’t make it easy for us. As we know, it’s been unusually hot in London over the last few days. But we have no air conditioning in our not-at-all-purpose-built, south-facing, antenatal clinic building. And our strictly monitored uniform policy (100% polyester) doesn’t help. We did get a free ice cream yesterday, so that was a sweet gesture. We’re hard-core, and if we get dehydrated, we waste less time on bladder care! Simples!

I wrote a post about the difficulties of the job when our bosses are facing considerable pressure to save money. It’s pernicious. It’s constantly there, lurking on everyone’s brain, destroying peace of mind, infecting dreams, malingering malevolently at the back of our consciousness. We need to be creatively super-human.  We get told we need to be more resilient. There are posters where we eat, telling us to take 5 minutes to tend to ourselves. But our next woman is waiting, waiting to unburden herself on us, because nobody told her how tough pregnancy was gonna be, how much she’d have to give up, how much pain she’d be expected to endure. We give it our all, our body and soul. And then we leave. Broken and unthanked. Convinced we failed.

So yeah, self care… easier said than done.

@wes streeting, if you’re truly listening, let’s talk.

The Unofficial, Unapproved, Unpublishable Minutes of a Team Meeting with The Big Boss