Grahame Shadbolt was startled awake earlier this year in the early hours of a March morning by the persistent trilling of his phone.
His elderly father Kenneth, who had fallen on his way to the restroom and was unable to get up, was on the phone. According to Grahame, “He had phoned an ambulance and was adamant there was nothing to worry about.”
“He was adamant I must not come,” I said.
Grahame, a 66-year-old retired marine engineer, commutes two hours to visit his father in the Cotswold village of Chipping Campden from his home in Hampshire.
Grahame fought the want to jump into his car right away, but decided against it, telling himself that an ambulance would reach his 94-year-old father much faster than he could.
He admits, “It’s now my worst regret.”
Why? because it took five hours for an ambulance to arrive.
Kenneth, who had called 999 a further two times out of increasing fear, was asleep by the time it did get to the end-of-terrace property where his father lived alone. He passed away in the hospital shortly after.
The transcripts of his final calls, which his devastated sons asked to view to piece together his final hours, highlight the fact that their father died alone, in pain, and more conscious that aid would not arrive in time, which has made their loss even more difficult.
They are distressing to read.
More than an hour after the first call, on the third call, Kenneth complains of feeling “terrible sick” and, in the dark humor favored by that most stoic of generations, proposes that perhaps an ambulance is no longer required.
He begs the operator, “Can you please tell them to hurry up otherwise I’ll be dead.”
The greatest option is to “Send me the undertaker.”
They were some of his final comments, which were poignant and foreboding. Jerry, Grahame’s twin brother, told the Mail this week, “That was Dad.” He would never cause a scene.
He wasn’t complaining, but he was unmistakably stating, “I need your aid.”
He felt vulnerable, alone, and becoming more and more upset. He had every reason to believe that an ambulance would arrive soon.
“That it didn’t come is a disgrace to our health system,”
It’s horrible enough to lose a loved one, but to imagine Dad laying on the floor hurt and terrified is so very difficult, says younger brother Russell, 64, a retired civil servant from Bristol. We were taught to go to work, pay taxes, and trust that the NHS will be there for us when we need care. It wasn’t, though.
The Shadbolts’ story sheds a terrifying light on the devasting consequences of the recent rise in ambulance call out times.
In England, the typical response time for a Category 2 emergency in May was nearly 40 minutes, more than double the 18-minute goal. This is the category under which Kenneth was triaged. According to the Healthcare Safety Investigation Branch, the delays are harming people every day.
In the meantime, there are actual people whose loss is felt deeply, like Kenneth, a father of five, grandfather of six, and great-grandfather of one. He raised his five sons with wife Claudine, whom he met at a Butlin’s summer camp and wed in 1951, and resided in the same village his entire life, like many people of his generation.
After having five kids in the period of seven years, Kenneth, a farm laborer, started working in a factory since his family had grown to the point that a laborer’s income was no longer sufficient.
Jerry, a consultant in West London, claims that “he despised it.” He had switched from working outside to around loud machinery, which gave him migraines for the rest of his life.
Simon and Nigel, the oldest kids, were followed by the twins and Russell, the youngest son. Nigel’s death from kidney difficulties at the age of 16 in 1967 was a tragic event. It was a weight that my father bore his entire life.
Jerry claims, “He never recovered from that.
But as time went on and his sons moved out, Kenneth was able to work as a carpenter for the remainder of his working life. Jerry says, “He loved it.”
Prior to Claudine developing dementia and passing away at age 84 in 2016 leaving Kenneth a widower, he and Claudine also liked coach vacations.
Simon passed away from cancer in 2018, only in his mid-60s, adding to the sadness.
Kenneth did not enjoy living alone, but he was adamantly independent and did not allow himself to wallow in self-pity.
He was in good health considering his age when his sons gave him an electric tricycle in 2020, which he used to regularly travel ten miles around the countryside.
Grahame claims, “It altered his life.” He cherished riding the bike outside. He appeared more fit and had shed weight.
He had company most weekends because his surviving sons frequently paid him visits. We engaged in a variety of activities, according to Jerry. “We used to enjoy a pub meal together, Grahame and his wife would frequently cook for him, and Russell would accompany him on his errands.
Russell is saddened by the fact that he hasn’t seen his father since last September, when he was hospitalized and confined to his home as a result.
We had a long-standing agreement to go out for a pint and steak at a neighborhood pub when I was able to travel, he explains. “I was scheduled to go a few weeks before he passed away, but I received Covid.”
Kenneth’s sons are aware of how old their father is. However, nobody could have foreseen what happened in the early hours of March 24.
Kenneth went to bed at ten, and when he got up to go to the restroom, he slipped and fell down.
He had damaged his hip after collapsing and hitting a wardrobe, as he later revealed to Grahame.
At 2.57 in the morning, he was able to get to his phone on the nightstand and made his first emergency call. He tells the dispatcher he can’t get up because “I think I’ve hurt my hip.”
The operator informs him that they are unsure about the estimated wait time for an ambulance.
“We’ll do everything we can to send someone over there as quickly as we can. OK?’ them include
Grahame, a Fareham-based father of three, was immediately phoned by Kenneth.
According to Grahame, “He said his right leg had given out and he was laying on the floor of his home.” He admitted to trying to phone a neighbor but not getting a response, but he made it apparent that he was fine and that an ambulance was on the way.
Although I was two hours away, I was confident that the ambulance would arrive far sooner than I would.
In a hurry to share information about the whereabouts of a house key, Kenneth called 999 once more at 3.13 am.
He reiterates that he believes he has a lump on his shoulder and that his right leg is affected.
He worries that his phone’s battery is running low and says that he thinks he is in “real trouble” when the dispatcher asks him to go over all of his information once more. He is told, “It’s only to make sure we have the most recent information — this won’t delay any of the services.”
“We’re quite busy, but we’re striving to get that help to you as soon as we can,” they said.
Grahame called his father at 3.30 am to see how he was doing. I thought the ambulance would be there, so when it wasn’t, I was astonished, he says.
Even though he claimed to feel a little cold and be unable to grab the duvet, “Dad was still OK.”
Grahame debated going again but decided against it because he thought the ambulance would arrive shortly.
Reflecting, he says, “I should have just gotten up and left; it will always be in my mind.” Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but I could have given him more comfort.
At 4.12am, Kenneth made his third and last call to the ambulance service. He says he is on the kitchen floor for a little while as his situation obviously worsens, but he is still conscious enough to describe being in “awful pain” and “bad sick.”
He talks about attempting to burrow under his duvet in vain to stay warm.
He continues, “I’m getting worse by the minute.” “My breathing is also getting worse and I’m having increasing pains everywhere.”
When Kenneth is warned that the service is “under a lot of pressure” a second time, he makes the bold prediction that it might already be too late. He requests, “Send me the undertaker.”
The best option is “that.” The dispatcher closes the conversation by promising to arrive as soon as possible and, in an odd and callous manner, advising him to be careful.
Kenneth responds, “I’ll try, thank you.” ‘Bye’.
His final words were those.
At seven in the morning, Grahame tried to call his father’s cell phone but was unsuccessful. He then unsuccessfully dialed the nearby hospitals. Grahame called Margaretta, Kenneth’s next-door neighbor, at 7:30 a.m.
He remembers saying, “I urged her to walk around and stay on her mobile phone.” He was still on the floor when she entered, and she informed me he appeared to be unconscious. She spoke to him, and I overheard it.
For Grahame, it was a startling change of events. He recalls, “I couldn’t believe the ambulance still hadn’t shown yet. It was terrible to consider how long he had been there.
Grahame dialed 999 in a fit of rage but kept getting put on hold. He called Margaretta after hanging up in despair, and she informed him that the ambulance had really arrived.
Five hours and thirteen minutes had passed since Kenneth’s initial contact, at 8.10am.
Eventually, at 9.59 am, Kenneth arrived at Gloucester Hospital. However, he never regained consciousness and died at 2.21 pm, exactly five minutes before Grahame arrived on the ward.
Russell, who still had Covid, was forced to remain at home without being able to say goodbye until Jerry showed there 25 minutes later.
The cause of death for Kenneth was listed as “a very massive” bleed on the brain, which a doctor informed his sons was “unsurvivable” – a term they disagree with. Who is to say that they wouldn’t have been able to help him if they had arrived sooner? Grahame queries.
Jerry filed a grievance with South Western Ambulance Service (SWAS), and the coroner allowed them access to the emergency call transcripts at Kenneth’s inquest in April. These transcripts reveal how Kenneth was repeatedly given empty promises that aid was on the way.
‘Our health and care system in Gloucestershire, and nationally, remains under severe pressure and continues to face substantial challenges in response to unrelenting demand,’ said Professor Mark Pietroni, medical director of Gloucestershire Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust, in a statement.
The team works diligently to ensure that patients are taken care of despite the fact that Cheltenham and Gloucester’s emergency rooms are frequently busy.
In order to guarantee that ambulances are available as quickly as possible to react to 999 calls, we work very closely with our colleagues in the ambulance service to reduce handover delays.
I would like to extend my profound sympathies to Mr. Shadbolt’s family and friends, said Jenny Winslade, executive director of quality and clinical care for the SWAS NHS Foundation Trust.
Patients must wait longer than they would anticipate for an ambulance since our entire health and social care system has been operating under constant stress for many months.
“Handover delays brought on by hospital and community and social care capacity concerns have contributed to the fact that our performance has not reached pre-pandemic levels.”
This indicates that the time it takes to get an ambulance to patients is now too long. We acknowledge that this risk is unacceptable.
“We continue to work with our partners on a daily basis to ensure that our crews can get back out on the road as soon as possible, to react to other 999 calls,” the statement reads.
Russell finds these comments to be of little solace, saying: “I’m sure dispatchers are worn out and overloaded, but their responses were deceptive – they were making assurances that had no basis in fact.”
You want action in that situation, not words.
The brothers are all frustrated that good judgment did not win out. If they are aware that they won’t be able to reach someone in time, Jerry advises being clear.
They ought to advise that individual to call for assistance, and if they are unable to do so, the dispatcher ought to call the police or a nearby doctor.
No one ought to be alone like my dad was.