I was working with Tank Gray, a local fencer, the other day.
Alan and Amanda who live over the creek and up the road needed someone to help them put up new fences around their lucerne paddocks.
Before we began, Tank set out some rules.
His first was: safety first.
We were dealing with tractors, post drivers, barbed wire and heavy concrete posts.
His second rule?
Don’t hurry. Mistakes and accidents happen when you hurry.
I think back along the trajectory of my nursing career.
The first rule was to hurry.
Indeed, watching nurses gives you the impression of relentless perpetual motion: so much to do, so little time, faster, faster!
Tank, with no less production pressure, refused to hurry.
He had a shitload of work lined up because he had a good reputation for building good fences at a good price.
He had a shitload of work to do on his own farm across the river.
He had a great technique for pulling five wires through the posts at the same time, and true to his mantra that the way to do things faster was to do things slower he took all the time he needed to do each step properly.
So how can a fencer in the middle of the bush be deeply ingrained with simple knowledge that we in healthcare so resolutely ignore?
Interesting thought as we struggle with solutions to the problem that we harm one in ten of the patients we touch.