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The Midwife's Special Delivery

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2018
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‘I need to cut down my hours. I was hoping to just do one shift a week—you know, to keep my hand in—but if I do, my supervisor has told me that they won’t be able to guarantee that I’ll be rostered here on the maternity ward. She’s spoken with management and they said I’ll have to go to wherever I’m needed most if I’m only working one shift a week. I could end up on A and E perhaps or maybe even Intensive Care, and that’s the last thing I want.’

‘A change is as good as a rest,’ Rory offered, and Ally just wished he’d drop it, sucking in her breath as he pushed on. ‘But if you don’t want to go to another ward, just tell them that you belong here,’ Rory said, as if it was that easy. ‘The ward will back you. After all, you’ve been here longer than I’ve been alive. Surely the hospital should bend over backwards to accommodate you, shouldn’t they?’ He looked over at Ally, clearly expecting her support. ‘Have you spoken to Win’s supervisor about this?’

‘Of course I have,’ Ally answered, but her eyes were warning Rory to drop it. Ally, along with most of the senior staff on the maternity ward, had been vocal in her efforts to keep Win, but the sad fact of the matter was that she was considered too old and too inflexible for the job. The truth, though Win didn’t know it, was that the powers that be knew full well that Win couldn’t bear to work anywhere other than her beloved maternity ward, and that was the very reason they weren’t offering it—they wanted her to leave! It had been left to Vivien, the maternity unit manager, to soften the blow a bit, to explain to Win that despite the staff’s protests, if she signed the new contract, there was no guarantee she’d be working on maternity.

Once Win had gone, Ally half expected Rory to pick up the conversation where it had been before Win had come in—to tease her a little bit more—but Rory had other things on his mind.

‘Did you really speak to her supervisor?’ Rory checked.

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ Ally answered abruptly.

‘So why can’t she stay?’ Rory pressed.

Ally wished he would just leave it. ‘Rory, I did speak with her supervisor, so did Vivien, so did Mr Davies, the consultant, but, as much as we all adore Win, that’s not the issue.’

‘Win’s been here—’

‘Win’s been here for more than thirty years,’ Ally broke in. ‘Which is exactly the problem. Win runs the ward as she did when she started. She refuses to change her routine.’

‘Why should she,’ Rory answered, ‘when clearly her way works?’

‘It doesn’t any more, though,’ Ally snapped. ‘Take the eggs! The days are gone when you bring food in from home and give it to the patients. As nice as it is to spoil the mums, there are health regulations that have to be followed, and for ages Win refused to abide by them. Over and over the staff tried talking to her, telling her that she couldn’t keep cooking for the patients, but she refused to listen. It took two written warnings—’

‘Written warnings!’ Rory’s voice was incredulous. ‘Over eggs on toast! You know when I applied for the registrar’s position here, I was sent a load of stats, and one of the things that stood out was the infection control rate. This may be a relatively small suburban hospital but the infection rates in this ward are second to none. That has nothing to do with luck, you know, Ally.’


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