Mum deserved a happy ending, not a hospital’s failure

Yvette Martin was dropped on her head while in private respite care. Her family still have no peace, her daughter Yvonne Martin says.

My mum, Lebanon-born Yvette Martin, had an exotic and adventurous start to her life in New Zealand. As a 3-year-old, she clung to her mother’s skirt on board an ocean liner, the Strathnaver, as they sailed from Port Said in Egypt, via London and Australia, to a new life in Auckland in 1938.

Her parents, Linda and Michael Marsh, were pioneers out west, converting scrubland in Te Atatū South into an orchard and later a Christmas tree farm.

With seven children, it was a life of family, food and toil.

Mum put down firm roots in Te Atatū, married Albert Martin, had two girls, and never left her adopted homeland in the next 83 years.

While she liked to tell people she was ‘‘made in Lebanon’’, New

Zealand was her country.

But her last months were sad, especially after an accident at a private West Auckland hospital, where she went for two weeks’ respite care last year. Instead of care at Carnarvon Private Hospital, she ended up with a lifethreatening head injury after she was dropped while being transferred to her bed by a hoist.

More than a year on, and four months after the Health and Disability Commissioner’s office made its decision, concerns linger.

Along the lines of restorative justice, I asked Carnarvon’s management if I could meet with the two healthcare workers who dropped Mum, to make some sense of what happened, but the request was declined.

So here is an open letter to the healthcare workers in the hope they’ll gain a better understanding of the impact of the incident.

‘‘Dear Carnarvon healthcare workers,

‘‘It’s a pity you didn’t meet Mum eight years ago, before the catastrophic stroke that ultimately led her to you. She was lively and vital. She loved people and cooking. No-one left her house hungry and the jug was always on.

‘‘She could speak Arabic, cook exquisite Lebanese food and taught many others to make the dishes of her native country. She was a night owl. During my home visits, it wasn’t unusual to be woken by the whiz of her ice cream maker, as she stamped out a batch of rum ’n’ raisin at 2am.

‘‘But life changed forever when she had a stroke one evening in 2014. It robbed her of the ability to walk and swallow. No more cooking and no more eating as she adjusted to a life of being fed through a stomach tube.

‘‘Mum was cared for in her home by my sister and an army of caregivers. It was difficult and, in August 2021, Mum came to you at Carnarvon Hospital for two weeks’ respite care. Your hospital’s motto is ‘‘we take great care of older people’’. But in this case, it was anything but.

‘‘A week into Mum’s stay, when you were hoisting her from a chair to her bed, tragedy struck. Mum always felt vulnerable swinging in the air in a hoist and had a fear of falling. We always assured her not to worry.

‘‘There were two of you that fateful day, but neither checked with the other that Mum was securely attached to the hoist before launch-off. One of the loop attachments wasn’t secured and Mum’s head slipped through a gap in the sling. She plummeted head first, hitting and slicing her head open on the edge of the hoist leg.

‘‘St John was phoned and told Mum’s injuries were lifethreatening. It took 35 minutes for

an ambulance to arrive and Mum was transported 450 metres down the road to Waitākere Hospital, where her life hung in the balance. No Carnarvon representative went with Mum to hold her hand.

‘‘Early the next morning, a staff member of Waitākere Hospital phoned me at work in Wānaka and said Mum was fading. I whispered

my goodbyes through a phone held to Mum’s ear, to cover me, before catching the next flight to Auckland.

‘M um looked grim. Her head wound had been glued and her curly silver locks were soaked in blood. She complained of a sore head and her heart rate and blood pressure were off the charts.

‘‘On visiting Carnarvon two days after Mum’s accident, unit manager Gerry Fennelly showed me the hoist, which was set aside for a mechanical check. But as we learnt, it was human error, not the hoist.

‘‘A year to the day after Mum’s fall, the office of the Health and Disability Commissioner (HDC) wrote that the complaint I laid about the accident had been reviewed. That subsequent actions taken by Carnarvon were deemed appropriate and should prevent similar accidents occurring.

The HDC said your healthcare workers had learnt from the accident, following further training on the use of a hoist. The complaint was subsequently closed.

‘‘There was no ruling that the accident needed publishing on Carnarvon’s website, therefore no public disclosure for people considering placing loved ones into Carnarvon’s care.

I was assigned a health and disability advocate to help address concerns directly with Carnarvon.

‘‘While the complaint may be resolved from the HDC’s perspective, there is no such peace for Mum, who never fully recovered from being dropped and died at home two months later, aged 86.

‘‘And there is no such peace for the family, who expected professional care, or at least that Carnarvon would do no harm. Instead, we’re haunted by the hospital’s abysmal failure in its duty of care and the issue remains unresolved and unresolvable.

‘‘I have no idea how you, the healthcare workers, are feeling following the accident and whether you have learnt from it. I have not been able to meet you or look you in the eye. Or even receive a letter from you expressing how you feel.

‘‘Carriann Hall, the chief executive of CHT Healthcare Trust to which Carnarvon belongs, phoned last week.

She apologised for the grief caused and said the incident should never have happened.

‘‘She said that not just Carnarvon but the other units under the CHT umbrella had learnt from the accident and this was Mum’s legacy.

‘‘Only, that’s not a legacy we’ll be remembering our exotic marigold Mum by. She’s remembered for her love of family and cooking around the clock. Her generous spirit and love of a belly laugh. She embraced her chosen country and everyone who crossed her path, and she deserved a happy ending.’’