Woman suing NHS trust after blade broke off during surgery and lodged itself in her body
Jane Harvey* suffered horrendous physical and mental consequences when, during an abdominal hysterectomy in October 2023, the tip of one of the surgeon's blades broke off and lodged inside her without any of the operating theatre staff noticing or an X-ray spotting it.
As a result the 44-year-old had to undergo further surgery to remove the mislaid blade part and stay in hospital longer than planned, needed extra time to recover and suffered nightmares, panic attacks and loss of appetite. She is now suing the NHS trust concerned for damages because of her experience.
She was 'shocked, horrified and upset' when she learned that surgeons had left some of their kit inside her. She was also worried after being told that she was at increased risk of infection, which meant she had to take antibiotics. Given what had happened, the thought of having a second operation left her 'drained and scared'.
Harvey, an administrator in a law firm, ended up 'paranoid and anxious' that not all the surgical equipment had been safely removed. She felt constantly sick that something was in her body that should not be there and lost her desire to eat. She also lost trust and confidence in those treating her.
'This case is a shocking example of how faulty medical equipment, compounded by failures in surgical and diagnostic care, can result in serious harm to patients,'said Ikhira Thandi, a litigation legal assistant at Lime Solicitors, which is acting for the woman in her lawsuit.
'Our client not only had to endure a second major surgery but has also had the lasting psychological impact of knowing a broken surgical tool was left inside her. Patients should be able to trust that equipment used in their care is safe, helping to deliver their treatment, not hinder it.'
Three months after the incident the patient's consultant apologised for it and explained that the dislodged blade tip was due to a manufacturing fault.
James Anderson, Lime's head of medical negligence in the West Midlands, said: 'Unfortunately this is not an isolated incident. Across the NHS there is evidence of faulty equipment causing avoidable patient harm. These failures carry a real human cost.'
The evidence presented at an inquest last year led to a coroner issuing an unequivocal warning about the danger that inadequate medical equipment can present.
Georgina Nolan, the senior coroner for Newcastle and North Tyneside, issued a prevention of future deaths report after hearing the inquest into the death of Michael Walton. The 66-year-old underwent heart bypass surgery in Newcastle on 13 June 2023 and was judged to be at low risk of complications.
However, the surgeon's preferred type of cannula was unavailable 'due to supply issues' so they instead used one with a slightly shorter tip.
However, as the prevention of future deaths notice explained: 'During the course of the procedure the aortic cannula became dislodged, causing a loss of perfusion and a prolonged period of interrupted blood flow to the deceased's brain, which caused an ischaemic hypoxic brain injury from which he died on 13 July 2023.'
In the matters of concern she outlined in her report, Nolan said that 'the cannula type contributed to its dislodgement from the lumen of the aorta and to Mr Walton's death'.
And, she added, the events investigated at the inquest showed that 'using suboptimal medical equipment poses an avoidable risk to patients of significant harm, including death'.
* name has been changed
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Times
34 minutes ago
- Times
Save a life in 20 minutes — while eating a biscuit
We are told, all the time, to be grateful. To practise gratitude. To keep a gratitude journal, to list all we are thankful for. In my later years I have started to augment all this with something else. Something a little more fundamental. I do grateful, as well. I do it here, in this church hall — which smells, as all church halls do, of old radiators, hot dust, floor polish and tea. Tea: a huge samovar clanks quietly at the back. Today it is in constant use. For while all church halls need a constant production of tea — for the mother-and-child groups, for the OAP yoga lessons, for the tea stall of a jumble sale — today, tea is needed on another level entirely. Today, the tea is literally medical. Today, north London is giving its blood. 'Name, age and address, please?' The car park outside is full of massive lorries. It looks like a film crew have parked up. You almost expect to see eg Emma Thompson coming out of a trailer in a crinoline with her hair in curlers, or maybe a couple of alien extras, wagging their tentacles, from Doctor Who. • Read more expert advice on healthy living, fitness and wellbeing But this isn't a film crew: it's the blood donation service. The story we are telling is: the continuing, shambolic miracle of the NHS. Coming, through the year, to every neighbourhood in turn, to see who wants to join in with one of the most miraculous things we ever invented: the ability to send our blood to someone who is dying. I take the clipboard and go and sit on a chair. I enjoy ticking 'no' on every question: I do not have a heart condition. I have not been pregnant in the past six months. I have not been tattooed, I do not have a cough or an active cold sore, and I haven't had unprotected sex with a new partner in the past six months: all things to be grateful for. My life is wonderfully boring. I would not like to have had unprotected sex with a new partner in the past six months. Imagine having to learn a new willy, from scratch, at my age. It would be harder than breaking in new boots. 'Let's take you through for your blood test.' They need to check if I'm anaemic. I have been, before. I didn't realise that if you take your iron supplements in the morning, then have — as is only right and proper! — a massive mug of tea, for breakfast, the tea counteracts the iron. Three times I came here only to be sent away, because my blood was too spindly. Too wan. Today, they prick my fingertip — then squeeze a blood-drop into a small glass phial of copper sulphate. The blood drop looks like a solid thing: a glass bead; a tiny red world, hanging in the liquid. It is an interesting thing to watch, the silent, simple chemistry telling the nurse if my blood is good enough — if it's heavy enough, with good iron — to sink to the bottom and qualify my blood as useful. Slowly, it sinks. I feel absurdly proud. 'Someone's been eating their spinach!' I have! I have been eating my spinach! But, more usefully, taking my iron supplement at night, before withdrawing from tea — or, as it's otherwise known, 'sleeping'. I get to go through into the main room, to give my pint. This room is always fascinating. Everyone has come here to do A Good Thing — to literally give a part of themselves to someone they will never meet. There's a father in his mid-thirties who has brought his toddler: she sits in her buggy while he talks her through what's happening. He is doing that most north London of things — being a fruitlessly overqualified parent. '… and so the blood is made of white platelets and red platelets!' he says pointlessly: no two-year-old has ever cared about white platelets. 'If you want to separate them out, you put them in a centrifuge, Miranda. Remember when we went to see the centrifuge — at Farnham air museum?' The two-year-old continues, inevitably and correctly, to ignore him. I'm fairly sure she would have hated Farnham air museum. Next to the dad is a Busy Businessman. He has the air of being, in every other circumstance life gives him, utterly dreadful. The cut of his suit, the angle of his shoulder, the repeatedly compressed thinness of his upper lip suggests this is a man who spends a lot of time shouting things like, 'We need to circle back and kick his ass!' on his mobile. But today, he has given himself the day off from being an arsehole. For whatever reason or backstory — whatever tender, noble or terrified moment in his life — the Busy Businessman has walked out of his office, turned off his phone and come here. I always forget that I cry when I'm here. And I always do. For, as I take my place on my bed and watch the needle — thin as an eyelash, an eyelash made of steel — go into my vein, and the blood jumping from inside me down the artery-thin tubing and into the collection bag, I marvel all over again at what this room is. At what this place is. Because this is the place where you are asked to give love. Not to someone or something specific — you never look into someone's eyes and respond to their call for help. No — here you give love freely, and unconditionally, to the world. You prove, practically and physically, that you buy into this whole planet, after all. You deal yourself back into the game. You indicate that you are a fan of your species. That, despite every disappointment, you still believe something elemental: you would never let someone die in front of you. Somewhere out there, one day soon, one of your fellow confused, well-meaning, frangible mammals will suddenly have their life explode. There will be a crash, a clutching of the heart, a fall — and then: blue lights and wailing sirens. Machines bleeping, and screaming. And loved ones sitting next to them, fists clenched tight, offering anything — everything — to God to make it better. For the universe to send something, anything, to keep them here. And the thing that will make it better, the thing that is sent, is you. You, on some distant day, will be someone's astonishing, life-saving miracle. I lie on the chair in the church hall, watching the dust motes catch the sunlight as I lie, quietly draining, and think of what an extraordinary thing it is: to give so easily so something utterly magical. How often can we really make someone's day better, let alone save their lives? Young boys and girls dream of being heroes, of saving a comrade on the battlefield, of giving the speech that starts the righteous revolution. In the end, hardly anyone ever does this. We are all so ready to be tested — to give — but in the modern world the call doesn't come. But, in all honesty, this will probably be the greatest thing you ever do. Fill out some paperwork, lie on a bed, watch a father try to give a toddler a biscuit without tangling her arms up in his tubing, then eat a biscuit. Your true effect on the world will almost certainly not be measured in the size of your efforts but in how smart they were instead. What's the inflection point? Where are you most needed? where shuffling nurses in cardigans quietly build up the blood banks for when a train crashes, or a bomb explodes, or there's just a medium-to-hard day in A&E. The only universal bank — a blood bank. One you too may be a borrower from, one day. You cannot know if you will live your life entirely on this side of the donation. When you give, you're giving to everyone — including, potentially, yourself. On the way home I allow myself a pleasurable dwell on how wonderful the world always looks when you have left a good, useful place. This is the same high I get when I leave a museum, or cathedral, or festival: all the places where humans are at their best. How magical that we have all these places dedicated, simply, to how inventive, clever and kind we can be. If you want to be hopeful, give blood. Save a life in 20 minutes, while eating a biscuit. Be the most relaxed hero it's possible to be. Three weeks later, I get a text — right after the one that tells me the spade I ordered from Argos, Wood Green, is ready for collection. 'Your blood donation was used today at Addenbrooke's Hospital, Cambridge. Thank you.' There will be no better text this year. I am grateful. I do out how to become a blood donor at
The Independent
43 minutes ago
- The Independent
Psychological support system opens to infected blood victims
Thousands of people impacted by the infected blood scandal in England will be able to self refer to a bespoke psychological support NHS service, officials have announced. The nationwide service began a phased rollout in September, and is now open to people infected and affected across the country. The Infected Blood Psychological Service will include talking therapies; peer support and psychosocial support, NHS England said. More than 30,000 people in the UK were infected with HIV and hepatitis C after they were given contaminated blood and blood products between the 1970s and early 1990s. And more than 3,000 people have died as a result, while survivors are living with lifelong health implications. The new service is open to victims of the scandal as well as bereaved partners, parents, children and their extended families. People can self refer by phone or can be referred to the service by their GP. Officials said that a specialist therapist will help create tailored mental health plans for those in need of support. Claire Murdoch, national mental health director at NHS England, said: 'The contaminated blood scandal and the subsequent long fight for answers have had life-altering physical and psychological impacts for thousands across the country and the NHS is determined to ensure that anyone infected or affected can receive evidence-based support and treatment. 'It has been so important that the Infected Blood Psychological Service has been co-designed with members of the infected blood community to ensure the best and most personalised care possible, and we are very grateful to all our partners who have helped establish these vital new services.' Nicola Leahey, from Lancashire, was infected with Hepatitis C following blood transfusions in 1975 and/or 1980, and was part of the expert advisory group to the new service. 'After my diagnosis, I felt that my body had been violated, that I had been physically and mentally abused, stripped of my dignity, my self-esteem diminished, I mourned lost opportunities, I felt betrayed,' she said. 'So many of us have long awaited the opportunity to have professional support to try to cope with the trauma and life-long effects that we've been subjected to. 'I'm thrilled that this much-needed service is now operational for both those infected and affected members of the infected blood community across England.' Professor Meghana Pandit, co-national medical director for secondary care at NHS England, added: 'Following the recommendations of the Inquiry, this new service represents a vital step in ensuring patients and families affected in England can be offered tailored psychological treatment and support, and we are pleased that specialist clinics are now open in all areas of England. 'This bespoke psychological treatment is already making a difference to the lives of the first people to access it, and we now want to ensure everyone eligible is aware of the services provided.'
The Herald Scotland
an hour ago
- The Herald Scotland
Women with genetic cancer risk being ‘missed' due to testing gaps
Lynch syndrome is a rare condition which runs in families which puts people at a higher risk of developing cancers of the bowel, womb and ovaries. It is caused by a mutation in the gene that fixes mistakes in DNA when it is copied, which can lead to uncontrolled cell growth. Patients with bowel or womb cancer should have their tumours assessed for markers of Lynch syndrome, according to guidance for the NHS. If these markers are identified, patients should be referred for genetic testing so the diagnosis can be confirmed and they can get support and advice about cancer risk for themselves and their family. A new study by academics at the University of Edinburgh found not all womb cancer patients are being sent for genetic testing. Researchers examined data on 2,500 womb cancer patients across the UK and Ireland between 2022 and 2023. We have launched a Guide to #LynchSyndrome to help provide information and support to anyone who thinks they may have it, that it may run in the family, or have found out they have — The Eve Appeal (@eveappeal) February 13, 2023 They found that 91% of tumours were tested for markers of Lynch syndrome, but the test results were not routinely communicated to the wider clinical team. This means that follow-up genetic counselling and blood tests were not always arranged. Of the 181 participants eligible for genetic counselling, just under two-thirds (64%) were referred for appointments, according to the study, which has been published in the journal BMJ Oncology. Researchers said those who were referred faced long waits, resulting in high dropout rates, meaning only 48% of those eligible went on to get the test. Today's #LynchSyndromeAwarenessDay. Our policy team sat down with our supporter, Jane, to share her experience. As well as highlighting what else needs to be done to improve Lynch syndrome care. Read our blog: — Bowel Cancer UK (@bowelcanceruk) March 22, 2025 Experts from the university said gaps in testing mean some womb cancer patients with Lynch syndrome go undetected. Family members are also left vulnerable to cancer risk, unaware they may have the condition. Dr Neil Ryan, from the University of Edinburgh, who leads the UK audit and research collaborative in obstetrics and gynaecology, said: 'Despite clear guidance and excellent rates of tumour testing, too many women with Lynch syndrome are still being missed because they're not referred for definitive blood testing in a timely way. 'This not only denies them the chance to reduce their future cancer risk but also prevents their relatives from being tested and protected. 'Tumour testing is only cost-effective if it leads to diagnosis — we urgently need to make mainstream testing truly mainstream.'
