Mum died waiting 11 hours for an ambulance – I won’t forget her cries

As Mum lay on the floor, in pain and stripped of dignity, she asked me: ‘When is help coming?’ 

These words will haunt me forever because I couldn’t give her an answer, or the comfort she needed and deserved.  
 
That scene unfolded during an 11-hour wait for an ambulance – a wait after which, devastatingly, my mum died just two days later from sepsis. 
 
No other family should ever have to go through this, but sadly, this remains the reality for thousands across Britain today.  

My mum, Jackie, was 78, though everyone who knew her said she seemed younger in spirit. She loved life, regularly attending live music in our village and enjoying afternoons with her friends. 

She was a beloved figure at our local church – a mum, Nana (she always insisted on ‘Nana’ instead of Grandma), and a pillar of strength, love, and support throughout my life. She was the person I loved most in the world and I miss her every day.  

On Sunday July 10, 2022, my mum fell at her home in Barwell, Leicestershire. She had a community alarm and when she pressed it that morning, I was called. 

I rushed to her house with a friend in tow to find her lying on her bedroom floor. My friend immediately called for an ambulance. It was 5:01am. 

They said the wait could be up to 10 hours but reassured us it probably wouldn’t be anywhere near that long. Mum said she’d hurt her ribs, so we didn’t try to move her because they told us not to.  

As it turned out, help wouldn’t arrive in any form until after 4pm. Throughout those gruelling hours, I repeatedly called 999, desperate for updates.

I told them she was frail, hurt, and in pain. I told them she was desperate and in tears. Each time the answer was the same: someone would arrive as soon as possible.  

The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Should we have driven her to hospital ourselves? We agonised over this question. But we were repeatedly advised not to move her – it could worsen her injuries – and we trusted an ambulance would come. Minutes turned into hours, and hope turned into despair.  

When a paramedic finally arrived 11 hours after we’d first called, she quickly assessed Mum and urgently called an ambulance, which arrived about half an hour later.

The paramedics themselves couldn’t have been kinder or more compassionate; they were doing their absolute best within a broken system.  

At George Eliot Hospital in Nuneaton, initially it seemed like Mum might recover, but the next morning, the phone rang with news that changed everything: ‘You need to come in today.’ 

She’d deteriorated dramatically overnight; an infection, not thought to be related to the fall had rapidly progressed into sepsis. My sister flew in urgently from Dubai, arriving just in time for us to say our final goodbyes. 

Mum passed away later that evening, two days after the fall.  

Everything happened so fast, yet somehow it felt like time stood still. As I left the hospital that night, I was numb, my world shattered. I still couldn’t comprehend how we’d gone from chatting to losing her in just two days. 

The weeks following her death were a blur. But amidst my grief was growing anger. Anger at a system that had allowed such a preventable tragedy to happen. 

I started researching ambulance waiting times and was horrified to discover how common our story was. Thousands across Britain have faced similar waits, some with equally devastating outcomes.  

According to The Health Foundation in April this year, the number of people experiencing 12-hour waits before [hospital] admission ‘reached a new record high’. On top of that, ambulance handover delays were worse than previous winters. 

Behind each number is a person, a family grieving just like mine. That realisation spurred me into action. 

Since Mum’s death, I’ve campaigned relentlessly for proper NHS funding, improved ambulance response times, and desperately-needed social care reform. I’ve shared Mum’s story countless times, spoken out publicly, joined patient advocacy groups like Just Treatment, and fought alongside others demanding real change.  

Labour came into power promising to address these issues. While they’ve made some progress in reducing general waiting lists, critical issues like ambulance response times and A&E handovers remain unresolved. 

Recently, Labour announced plans for a commission to review social care, which would be essential to easing hospital pressures, but the final report isn’t scheduled until at least 2028. How many more lives will be lost waiting for that change?  

To keep Mum’s memory alive and highlight this crisis, we placed memorial benches outside Conservative and Labour Headquarters, held public vigils, and continued campaigning. But what would truly honour Mum and others who’ve suffered similarly, is concrete action.  

We need to be properly funding the NHS, recruiting and retaining ambulance staff, and ensuring ambulances are available immediately when needed. No excuses, no delays.  

I know Mum would want me to fight this injustice. She didn’t deserve to spend her final hours in pain, abandoned by a system meant to protect her. No one deserves that.  

Mum was more than a statistic. She was Jackie: a mother, Nana, friend, and a vibrant soul who deserved dignity, respect, and timely medical care.  

I refuse to stay silent while others face the same fate. No other family should endure what we did.  

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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