An inspirational lecture by Professor Brendan McCormack of the University of Ulster ('Human flourishing through nursing research and development: seeing, appreciating, and making use of what is right in front of us) has set me thinking. The focus of his research is on the person at the centre of the care experience, and his lecture uses a number of examples of patient/carer voices that really bring home to the listener what it means to be on the receiving end of care. For me, it is this kind of research that makes a massive impact on the educational experience of student nurses. A couple of personal examples illustrate what I mean by this:

Gwen is a newly-qualified nurse who had a challenging educational pathway for a number of reasons. One of these reasons is that she developed breast cancer as a third year student. She is one of the most inspirational people I have met - genuinely. She quietly got on with her treatment, and then came back to our university and successfully completed her course. As well as this, she has developed a 'lecture' where she talks to our students about what it meant to her to be on the receiving end of care - what made it a 'good' experience and what made things harder for her. Gwen and I have written an article about her work with our students, and the ripple effect (as she calls it) of her shared reflective patient journey - the impact that her experience has had on the people that she has spoken to, the ones they have spoken to...... and so on. The article is in press and I will make sure I let readers of this blog know about it when it is published - Gwen is an eloquent writer.

A second example relates to my own experiences as a relative of someone who is on the receiving end of care on a fairly regular basis. My daughter has epilepsy and, although she has been fit-free for around 3 months now (touch wood!!), she has had a difficult few years. We have received amazing care from her specialist nurse and her consultant. And we had reasonable care when she was admitted this year in status. When she was taken into A&E with a smashed face following a fit in the High Street, care was ok. But what makes the difference is not the technical care (can't fault it), rather the artistry of care - the demonstration of care through the use of language, touch, a look. When that is missing, it makes one feel invisible and not important.

My aim is to help our students to understand how we can ensure that patients, relatives and their carers feel visible and important.