Your Stories

Firstly, this story is from many many years ago. I became aware of an ‘incident’ on one site between a junior (female) and more senior (male) and more experienced colleague who were part of the NHS Trust (not the site I worked on at the time, but had done in the past so I knew who the accused and suspected victim were, also her partner who worked with us).

Please do note that this was ‘rumour’ but subsequent events seemed to corroborate that something happened. I suspect (but cannot confirm) that it was reported and investigated by a direct line manager who had known the accused for many years and I suppose that this means it was not an objective process (for these things I believe it should be someone independent). I also believe this caused some controversy between members of the management team with some also agreeing it should be independent and escalated further.

A few weeks passed and the accused was moved to my working site rather unexpectedly. After a couple of weeks he began following me into store rooms (so we were on our own) and trying to make advances. At this point we were on the same staffing level but I was viewed as more inexperienced. I refused these advances and immediately tried to exit the room each time (he always closed the door behind him so I knew what was coming).

On one occasion, he followed me into a smaller store cupboard and therefore, he was between me and the door handle/door, he attempted to tear open my uniform and made advances at me. Fortunately (or unfortunately) I had been in similar situations as a child with a teenage family member (we were both teenagers) and had ‘techniques’ to finally manage to get myself out of this situation.

I did not ever report anything because the manager/matron had clearly not taken the original (rumoured) complaint seriously because there was ‘no evidence’ and because this person was no longer working with the original victim, she was out of range for him – at least this way I could ‘deal with it’. Also, I was worried about my job, reputation and status in the team but also felt it was my fault in some way. I eventually left (not solely because of this) but later heard that this behaviour was not isolated to myself and the other junior member of staff. That it had happened before and after I left.

Again, there was ‘no evidence’ so others hadn’t reported it – it’s just rumour and ‘it’s just how he is’ ‘he’s always been like that’. On reflection, I wish I had reported it but the system just wasn’t there to support us, I ran the risk of others denying it and I just took a ‘resilient’ approach as I had done when I was a child (again, I never disclosed this for the same reasons).

I have mentioned this to a previous partner who did not really take me seriously, my current husband does believe me but it’s so long ago now, and so much has happened in life since, I have ‘got over it’. But I do feel guilt that he may have gone on to do this with more vulnerable members of staff. My husband actually went to the extent of checking if he was still a registrant (he is). Now, it’s far too late in life to report this (if there was not enough evidence then, there won’t be now) but if I can help others, then hopefully this experience may contribute to the cause.

Ok, full disclosure, I don’t work in the NHS anymore but spent a good decade in it (18 years old, fresh at uni, getting repeated breast examinations by my GP). Some of the docs involved in this were British, Australian. The point is, it’s a culture of the profession rather than a culture of a country. I’ve seen it in many forms, in many places. I was a very young looking, naive reg, working in a small hospital where we were all friends, half these people I’d make referrals to 3-4 times a day. We would hang out in the evenings at the one bar/club because there was nowhere else to go to. It was a four street town. So it wasn’t a surprise that one evening we were all out late together. Way passed the time when taxis were still working and I didn’t have much of a way making it back home safely. One of the regs said I could stay in his spare room and it sounded the obvious choice because this guy was my friend, a quiet, gentle person. I watched the others walking off into the darkness and they were laughing but I didn’t quite catch what they said. I was back with the med Reg and he was really insistent we drink more, got irritable when I refused but I didn’t want to because I’d hit my limit and the insistence didn’t make it so comfortable anymore. He wanted to watch a movie, and this guy was smart, this was someone we all respected, he was the god of our little kingdom. So I agree and suddenly I find his hand inside my shirt, on my breast like some sort of horror movie giant spider and I dragged it back out but it goes back down again. I take myself off to the spare room and barricade myself in, making tracks as soon as the sun rose. It was bad having to go through the situation but what was worse was realising what the guys, my friends, had been laughing about. I was really hung up on sex and didn’t have it, certainly not with anyone at work. I’d be too terrified I’d be labelled a slut. They all knew the plan and it was to get me drunk to the point I couldn’t say no, then effectively rape me. Except in their eyes, it wasn’t rape, it was just their mate having a good time.

Just recently a very (!) senior, renowned surgeon who is also infamous (on an international scale) for being difficult to work with due to his huge ego and arrogance summoned me to a research meeting; despite inquiring, I was not told what it would be about. He and his lab tech (f) met with me and he quizzed me about a list of patients I had given him a few months before; he was obviously displeased why there were so few, and what had the in- and exclusion criteria been and what about this subgroup and what about that. Was trying to remember from the top of my head but he grew increasingly angry and was trying to use psychological warfare tactics culminating in him looking at me in disdain saying “you have to get your priorities straight – I know it’s hard, I know you have a husband and children, and I was once a junior surgeon, too. But it’s just. not. good. science!” nodding at me patronisingly. However, I was 42 yo at the time and had been a specialist registrar and then consultant for seven years already. And for more background: I had offered to and taken over this minor part of a large research project where I went through our database of patients to assemble a cohort defined by his specifications for further investigation without being directly involved (have enough of my own projects). I had already anticipated that the group size might end up being too small for what he was looking to find out and had right away made suggestions on how to increase the sample – which he told me to hold off on. I sent an email afterward stating: “Please do not ever mention my family again in any of your tirades, that is just sexist. Especially insinuating having a husband (!) might keep me from delivering good work and might not be the right “priority” for doing great science.” Never heard back from him – better for my mental health, but surely worse for my career as his kind is never challenged and allowed to terrorise others in the name of “great science” – that could be so much greater if we didn’t cater to these monstrous egos.

I have only ever told one person this story but in recent years it has upset me more and more as I realise now what this was . I said nothing at the time which culturally was not a surprise. I was an anaesthetics trainee in 1997/8. The mess had all the on-call rooms within it and was very vibrant. I was confident and always v friendly to everyone and the apparent life and soul of the party. You will probably think how could I have been so stupid twice.. but here goes.. There was a trauma and orthopaedic registrar who I did a lot of on-calls with. We had a good banter and that was all it was in my eyes . One night I was on-call and had been chatting in the mess. I then had to go on an ICU transfer with a head injury  and wouldn’t be back until 1-2 am. He asked me to bleep him when I got back. I said no as I would be tired and if possible would try to get some sleep (24 hr on-call). I think he had been keeping an eye out for my return as shortly after I got back and just into my bed he bleeped me. He asked me to pop to his on-call room (opposite). Thinking nothing of it I went over. He was in bed and patted on the bed for me to sit down. He then tried to kiss me and appalled I refused his advances and said no. He then accused me of leading him on. I left and locked my room. This behaviour of bleeping me continued and I was on labour ward a short while later. He kept bleeping me and I told the obs registrar the situation. The next time he bleeped the obs reg answered and told him to FO and that he was my boyfriend. I was never bothered again. The obs registrar and I were also friends. He was a widower. He asked me out for dinner and I accepted. We started a sexual consensual relationship. He also knew I was vulnerable and had recently broken up with a long time partner . The widower story made me feel he was a safe person. He never invited me to his home but he lived further away. I didn’t think anything of it. The gynae consultants said she was surprised I would have an affair. She then told me an outpatient’s husband had punched him in clinic as he was also having sex with his wife at the same time as I thought we were in a relationship. Apparently everyone thought I was a big of a goer / whore . She then told me that he was engaged to a fellow doctor and the widower story whilst true was a guise to make me feel sorry for him and to make me trust him. And he did this knowing what had happened to the orthopaedic reg. I was horrified and then blocked it from my mind for decades.

The recent reports about sexual harassment of female surgeons brought back bad memories for me. I was a staff nurse in a surgical ward in the early 1990’s, having qualified 2 years previously. I had, recently, become engaged to my now husband. My GP had referred me to one of the consultant surgeons as I had developed a breast lump. Previously, I’d had breast lumps removed by this surgeon so I had complete faith in him. He had also informed me, previously, that he had studied at university with a close family member of mine. He was a married man with children. During one of my shifts, the surgeon approached me as he had received my GP‘s referral. He requested to examine me and, because I trusted him, I consented. There was no offer of a female chaperone (therefore, no witness). I was led into an empty examination room and he proceeded to examine my breasts, very thoroughly. Then he proceeded to examine the lymph nodes in my groins as he said he was concerned I may have an infection. During this examination, he pressed himself against me and I felt him go hard. His breathing became heavy and rapid and I just froze. On leaving the room, I felt violated and unable to speak to anyone of what had just happened so I carried on with my shift. Who would believe me anyway? It would have been my word against the word of this powerful man. With hindsight, I should have insisted on having a female chaperone but I trusted this man. I was, and still am, a practising nurse and I was also this surgeon’s patient. The only person I felt able to talk to about the incident was my husband, and that was a long time after it had happened. Recent reports also reminded me of an incident I experienced at a prestigious university where I completed a degree not related to health care, after I had left school. At a one-to-one tutorial with a mature, renowned, married professor with children, the first thing he said to me was that I should wear a belt with my jeans as it made me look easy. I have found it cathartic to relate these incidents, albeit anonymously. A can of worms has been opened by recent reports, and rightly so. Hopefully, your campaign to expose abuses of power will result in workplaces becoming safer places. All the best for your continuing good work.

I was an SHO working in orthopaedics. The male nurse practitioner described me as the “shaggable one” in a fully staffed theatre including to consultant surgeon. No one batted an eye lid.

I was a medical student In theatres and I was asked to put on a light cover holder which essentially needed putting on a bit like a condom. The surgeon said to me that I obviously had had plenty of practice. I told him no I am Gay and he shut up and looked very embarrassed. Another time as a GP trainee I was working with an obstetric consultant who was known to sexually harass and belittle women. He started to complain that I was a stupid GP trainee and why was he lumbered with me and that I was nice to look at so at least there was that. He used to get very physically close to me and make me uncomfortable; he only stopped when he realised I was married to a women and when I started to stand up to him for his behaviour.

When I was a newly-qualified FY1, I worked under a consultant who had a reputation for being a bit of a pervert. I remember my (male) SHO telling me, before I met the consultant, that he “likes to tell rude stories”, and just to try to ignore him. That he was nearing retirement, that he was “old school”. Ward rounds would be filled with him telling lewd stories about things he had done, that seemed intentionally designed to shock me, to make me feel uncomfortable. Nobody ever said anything to him about this, and he seemed to enjoy my discomfort. As the FY1, I wrote the notes on the ward round, leaning on the notes trolley. If he had finished with a particular patient, and I hadn’t immediately finished writing the notes, he used to shove the notes trolley (and the wooden shelf I was writing on) into my abdomen. Again, nobody ever said anything to him; not the male SHO, or the male registrar, and I didn’t feel that I could. He was too senior, and had too much power.