Two weeks after being sent home, my 83-year-old mum had a mini stroke — likely from the very medication meant to ease her pain. It’s been eye-opening, jaw-dropping, and exhausting — not just for her, but for all of us trying to fill the gaps in a care system that’s running on autopilot. This is what “aged care” really looks like from the inside.

When my mum was discharged from hospital on a Friday — still in pain, still scared — I realised the system doesn’t end at the hospital doors. This is what “transitioning home” actually looks like for families: no plan, no support, just paperwork and people left to cope.

I watched my mum crawl, bleeding, across her bathroom floor after a fall — too scared to press the emergency button, too proud to call for help. A year earlier, my dad died unwitnessed in a hospital that was meant to keep him safe. Now I finally see the truth: the system isn’t broken. It was never human to begin with.

My dad died after an unwitnessed fall in a Brisbane private hospital. This blog shares what happened — not for drama, but because people deserve to know what’s going wrong behind closed doors. This is his story, and it’s why I’m doing this work.

After my dad died in a Brisbane private hospital, I tried to work with leadership to improve care. I brought solutions, ideas, and hope — and was ghosted. This isn’t about blame. It’s about what happens when systems say the right things, then do nothing. We deserve more than silence.

My dad was 81 and had MND. His future was limited — but it wasn’t meant to end like this. This blog shares the truth about what happened inside a Brisbane private hospital when no one came, and the silence that followed. It’s not about blame. It’s about witnessing systemic flaws — and doing something about them.

The nurses who cared for my dad were incredible — but there simply weren’t enough of them. This post explores how systemic understaffing in private hospitals is quietly putting lives at risk, and why more red tape won’t fix what’s fundamentally broken.

I went to lawyers not for revenge, but to understand how something so clearly wrong could still be allowed. What I learned about the “standard of care” in Australia’s private hospitals was shocking — and it explained why accountability is so rare.

I tried to work with the system after my dad died. I brought ideas, offered solutions, and asked to collaborate — but was ignored. So instead of fighting what’s broken, I’ve started building something better: a new model for care, support, and purpose.

We’re told to keep private health cover — but when my dad needed care, the system didn’t deliver. This blog questions what we’re really paying for, how both public and private systems are under strain, and whether a better model is possible.

Public hospitals in Queensland have nurse-patient ratio laws. Private hospitals don’t. In this post, I unpack the structural cracks in both systems — and why neither is coping. With Australia’s ageing population and increasing pressure on healthcare, something has to give.