This opinion piece appeared in The West Australian on May 23 2025. By Deborah Childs CEO HelpingMinds

Over the weekend, The West Australian reported that our new Health Minister is confident she can fix the State’s health system. That’s good news. But not in time for us.

I’m writing this from a plastic chair beside a hospital bed in the emergency department. My family member has been here for five hours. They are in pain. They are unwell. They may well be in a life-threatening situation, according to the paramedic. However, aside from having their blood pressure taken, they haven’t been assessed.

No blood tests. No conversation with a doctor. I have been asked to keep an eye on them, and if their lips go blue or they stop breathing to let the nurse know. There is no indication that anyone truly understands the urgency I feel for assessment or the stress I feel after hearing the paramedic’s warning.
Triage says they have been assessed as a category three — the guidelines say this means, in theory, being seen within 30 minutes. However it’s now been five hours, and I’m told “they’ll be seen at some stage”.

Let me be clear: I’m not writing this to criticise the frontline staff. The nurses in ED at triage are doing their best with what little they have. The security staff, the orderlies, the volunteers — they all deserve our gratitude. They are holding together a system that is visibly, painfully stretched to its limits.
But the system itself is failing. It is failing my loved one. And I know we are not alone.

There are at least 120 people here in this ED, according to the WA Health website. There are people slumped in wheelchairs in corridors. Others lying on gurneys with no privacy, no family nearby, just waiting. One man near us has been vomiting for hours. An elderly person has been softly calling out for help — then getting louder. Still, no one comes. Not because they don’t care but because they can’t. There simply aren’t enough staff, enough space, enough time.

The website says the average wait is 52 minutes. It’s not. It’s at least five times longer than that. How have we reached the point where being dangerously unwell is not enough to be seen promptly in an emergency department?
We talk so often in policy circles about system reform. We draft strategies, announce investments, and promise transformation. However, all of that means nothing when you’re holding the hand of someone you love, watching them suffer while no one comes. The idea of “triage” — of prioritising care based on urgency — makes sense in theory. But when the category ones and twos take up every bed, when ambulances are ramped and staff are stretched to breaking point, category three becomes a long, cold wait in limbo. Sometimes for six, eight, even 12 hours. Sometimes for longer. And what happens when someone gives up? When they leave before being seen because they’re too distressed, too ashamed, too unwell to wait any longer?

For us today, the minutes feel excruciating. I keep checking the time, wondering what else I can do. I’ve offered information. I’ve asked questions.
I’ve tried to stay calm and patient. But inside, I’m screaming. Because I’m watching someone I care deeply for fall through the cracks of a system we all fund, but too many fear. When we read that the minister is “confident” she can fix it, it stings a little. Confidence is not what I need today. I need compassion backed by action. I need beds. Staff. Support. I need a health system that treats crisis like a crisis — not like a queue.

The irony is, outside of this hospital, I work in health. I know the complexities. I know the pressure. I know we need long-term reform. But knowing doesn’t make this moment any less heartbreaking. Fixing our health system isn’t just a political priority — it’s a moral one. And it cannot wait. Not for tomorrow’s press conference, not for next year’s Budget, and not until there’s a tragedy that could have been prevented, we have seen too many of those already. Because when it’s your loved one lying in that bed, alone and untreated for hours, you stop thinking in terms of systems and strategies.
You start asking: what if we don’t have time to wait?
Today, we don’t.

Debbie Childs is the chief executive at HelpingMinds