A strike goes against what it means to be a nurse. I am asking my colleagues to reconsider, writes NHS nurse CARMELAH JACOBS

Six months ago, late one night, I received the call many of us dread.

My 75-year-old mother suffered a sudden cardiac arrest and was taken to a hospital in London where doctors are fighting for her life.

My husband and I live over 200 miles away in the north of England and by the time we made the hectic three and a half hour drive to her bedside in the wee hours of the morning it was too late. My beloved mother has already passed away.

I was devastated, yes. But I will never forget the kindness of the nurses who greeted me in my distress.

These were the men and women who sat patiently by my mother’s bedside in her final moments – and who in turn forced me to stay with her for hours to say goodbye. “Take as long as you need,” someone told me.

That compassion is a quality I value as a nurse above almost anything else in my job.

And although I’ve thought about my mother every day since then, the last few days I’ve mostly thought about her last hours.

After all, some of those nurses who looked after them may now have voted to strike – for the first time in the 106-year history of the Royal College of Nursing (RCN).

Had such a strike occurred on the day of her death, my mother’s final hours – and my goodbye – might have been very different.

This is just one of the reasons why I am very sad about my colleagues’ decision to strike. There is no doubt that this measure will have devastating consequences for countless patients and their families.

While the RCN has insisted that emergency rooms remain untouched, thousands of operations, chemotherapy and dialysis appointments are being cancelled.

By now I have no doubt that in our wards this will result in some patients – people like my mother – dying alone or left without the tender touch of a nurse.

And so I am asking my colleagues to reconsider the campaign. If they continue, it goes against the principle of what it means to be a nurse – that the patient always comes first.

If they continue, it goes against the principle of what it means to be a nurse – that the patient always comes first

This principle of life is enshrined in the Code of Practice of the Nursing and Midwifery Council (‘[you must] Promote health and prevent health problems”).

Nurses, like newly graduated doctors, do not take the Hippocratic Oath and swear to uphold a set of professional ethical standards. But what we do undoubtedly serves our patients. It is taught to all of us from the moment we put on our uniforms to the moment we retire.

And it’s a principle I first embraced when I entered nursing 17 years ago, following in the footsteps of my late mother, Gina, who was a nurse herself for more than 20 years.

My siblings and I grew up hearing the stories – some sad, some funny – she told about her patients and the doctors she worked with.

Like me, she passionately believed that nursing was a calling. She was never interested in working for the money, but she was proud of what she did.

It was really inspiring and I have never regretted my career choice; not even in the darkest days of the Covid pandemic when I came home to my husband and two young children exhausted and traumatized by what happened in my ward.

My mother, herself a nurse for over 20 years, shared my firm belief that nursing is a calling. She was never interested in working for the money, but she was proud of what she did

I believed then – and I believe now – that I signed up for it. As nurses, we are trained to be prepared for anything. And while the Covid pandemic has presented many of us with the most extraordinary challenges we will ever face in our working lives, we all had to prevail.

This is the job, a job you don’t take for personal development or money. You do it because you want to give back and support and help people through the scariest and most important moments in their lives.

In turn, this can be hugely rewarding, inspiring and humbling. Listen to the news and you might hear the occasional horror story—but what you don’t hear are the myriad meaningful connections that are made every day.

The older woman cries as you hold her hand. The terminally ill young man who bursts out laughing for the first time in weeks at a joke you made. You see the former patient on the street and stop to thank you for your help.

Of course, I understand the concerns and frustrations of my colleagues.

I know that in the busy ward where I work in Greater Manchester, morale is low amongst my fellow nurses.

The Royal College of Nursing has confirmed tens of thousands of nurses will go on strike this winter following a “historic” vote. General Secretary Pat Cullen (pictured) calls it a “unique opportunity to improve your salary and tackle staff shortages.”

We’re all working longer hours, covering areas we don’t have experience in, and desperately trying to fill staff shortages.

There is no doubt that Britain has a chronic shortage of nurses: when I qualified I was responsible for six to eight patients. Now it’s 12 to 14. But while the workload has increased, the pay hasn’t kept up.

For many, the 3 percent salary increase we received last year in recognition of our work during the pandemic was not enough.

But while I accept that dissatisfaction, I also accept that the nurse’s rough starting salary of £27,000 – rising to almost £55,000 for older people – is not far from the average salary of many workers in the UK. I also appreciate that many public sector workers have faced a total wage freeze.

Of course, with the rising cost of living, it’s no surprise that many caregivers feel underappreciated.

In fact, I share that sentiment myself. But here’s the thing: I’m not going to argue with my peers when the time comes. And I never will. Because if you have chosen a nursing profession, a strike is never the solution.

Whatever grievances our nurses have, they must be addressed through good negotiation and discussion, not through strikes which, despite the rhetoric of union bosses, could result in patient deaths. Even one unnecessary death is one too many.

But I also have to think about all the other direct consequences of the carers going on strike – less dramatic than death on paper, but devastating nonetheless.

I am also concerned about how strikes are being received by the public – many of whom are very grateful and supportive of NHS staff, especially since the pandemic

I’m talking about the hands that aren’t held, the small gestures of compassion that aren’t made, or the words of comfort that go unspoken to grieving loved ones – as I did just a few months ago.

This is the stark reality of strikes, and so I will just keep working, visiting my ward and caring for my patients.

No doubt there will be rotating shifts to accommodate staff shortages – although I know what I am doing will still not be enough – but I and those who join me will do what we can.

Otherwise I would never be able to forgive myself.

I am also concerned about how strikes are being received by the public – many of whom are very grateful and supportive of NHS staff, especially since the pandemic.

But goodwill is not unlimited, and strikes threaten to erode it.

Therefore, please, my fellow sisters who voted for the strike, encourage them to look in their hearts and think again.