Who cares for the carers?

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of bullying, mental distress, suicide

The health system is crumbling under pressure, and it’s not just patients who are suffering. Nurses and midwives are being pushed beyond safe limits, bullied when they speak up, and left unsupported when they are injured. Burnout is treated as inevitable, while those who care for others are shown little care themselves.

It takes a special kind of awful to tell a worker injured on the job that they must put themselves or their family at risk, or walk away with nothing. That was the impossible choice I was given by Hunter New England Local Health District when I asked for reasonable support. Every solution I offered was denied, and what followed was pressure, intimidation, and retaliation.

Instead of being given the safe return-to-work plan I was promised, I was pushed back into full duties despite my injury. Breaks were impossible, workloads were unsafe, and when I raised concerns, I was told it was my fault. I was left alone on shifts with no support, sometimes for twelve hours, caring for far more patients than was safe. My injury worsened, yet the message was clear: the system’s staffing crisis meant my health and safety were expendable.

Policies that are supposed to guarantee flexibility and fairness for workers were ignored. Meetings that should have been about recovery and workplace adjustments became hostile interrogations. Even minor, inconsequential mistakes were weaponised. The support that is supposed to exist on paper simply evaporated in practice.

The bullying culture was relentless. Vexatious complaints, passive-aggressive comments, and impossible allocations became routine. I was given patients whose needs were physically unsafe for me to manage. When I asked for help, I was told I was lazy, unwilling, or not a team player. In reality, help was never offered. Asking for support became evidence against me. Speaking up was punished. Silence was demanded.

This is not how a safe, respectful workplace is supposed to function. It is not how a health system that relies on its frontline staff should operate. Yet these behaviours are tolerated, and even normalised, across hospitals and health facilities in our region.

At one point, I was encouraged to apply for a role that would reduce my time on the floor and better accommodate my injury. I was told I was the preferred candidate. But when I did the right thing and disclosed I was on worker’s compensation, the role disappeared. It was advertised again and again, each time labelled “hard to fill,” but never filled by me. This was not about merit. It was about discrimination, and about control.

I know I’m not alone. I’m a member of several support groups full of nurses and midwives with similar stories. Stories of being bullied, sidelined, and pushed out of the jobs they trained for and loved. A friend of mine took her own life because of the unchecked bullying she endured.

Who is caring for those who care? Nurses and midwives are expected to look after everyone else, but when they need care, they are abandoned. If they are injured, they are pushed back to work before they are ready. If they speak up, they are silenced. If they burn out, they are replaced. And the system wonders why they never have enough staff.

This cycle is destroying the workforce. People are not leaving these jobs because they want more money. They are leaving because they want peace of mind. They want to be treated with basic dignity. They want to go to work without fear of bullying, intimidation, or retaliation. They want to feel safe – physically, mentally, and professionally.

Until that happens, the health system will continue to lose good people. More nurses and midwives will walk away. Patients will feel the impact, because unsafe workloads and chronic understaffing are already costing lives. And politicians and executives will continue to scratch their heads and wonder why the system is in crisis.

The answer is simple: look at how staff are treated. Listen to the stories that so many are too scared to tell. Recognise that the people who care for others cannot continue to do so if they are broken by the very system they serve.

If those in charge truly want to fix the health system, they must start by looking after their own workforce. Because until leaders are brave enough to stand up and say enough, the health system will keep losing the very people it depends on.

If you need help or are upset by this article, please seek support.

• Lifeline 13 11 14
• Beyond Blue on 1300 224 636

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