Growing up, all I wanted to do was work in a hospital, and it turned out that by following my dreams, I also found the love of my life. Only, the person I fell in love with was a patient in my care who was fighting to stay alive.
In early 2013, aged 20, I was working as a healthcare assistant at Bedford Renal Unit, caring for outpatients with kidney failure.
Each patient came to the unit at least three times a week for dialysis treatment, and, with six patients per shift, I was usually busy fitting IV needles and checking dialysis machines.
During quiet moments, I’d sit with patients and chat, asking them about their families, jobs and lives outside the unit. The majority were over 50, as the…
