LAST week, Martha’s Rule was rolled out to all acute hospitals in England, giving patients and families the right to an urgent second opinion from an independent critical care team if they feel a condition is deteriorating and medical staff are not responding to concerns.

The process has been named after Martha Mills, who was 13 when she died following a bike accident that resulted in a pancreatic injury leading to sepsis. Her parents had repeatedly flagged that her condition was not improving, but were ignored by professionals.

As a result, she wasn’t moved to intensive care in time to save her young life; in 2022, a coroner ruled that she would probably have survived if she had been transferred earlier and given appropriate treatment.

Now, concerned parties can call a dedicated number that will trigger an emergency review. The Royal Cornwall Hospital’s Treliske site was among 143 hospitals that trialled the initiative as a pilot scheme. Nationwide, almost 5,000 calls made resulted in 241 life-saving interventions.

I have heard Martha’s mother, Merope, talk several times about the unbearable experience of losing Martha. One can only imagine the depths of grief she and Martha’s father must have endured, and the inevitable (albeit misplaced) feelings of guilt that plague any parent in such a position. It’s our job to advocate and protect our children, and perceived failure weighs heavily.

I speak from personal experience. When my own daughter was four, she fell ill during a trip up north. One morning, she woke feeling ill; by midday, we were booking an emergency appointment with a GP who raised the spectre of appendicitis. A couple of hours later, we were in A&E, facing an hour’s drive in an ambulance to the nearest children’s hospital.

The next few days were a living nightmare. The hospital was chaotic and noisy. Our ward was under scaffolding, meaning there was little natural light.

Daughter was as strong-willed then as she is now. She was in pain and feeling rubbish, and didn’t take kindly to being prodded. One doctor was less patient than any paediatrician should be, and when his scan revealed gallstones, he gave up the struggle and made his diagnosis.

A few days passed. On at least one, we saw no doctor and had to ask when one would come (“Not today”). Daughter’s condition was not improving. We were cheek by jowl with sweary neighbours, and my mum had to smooth ruffled feathers when I snapped at them.

It was only when Daughter finally went in for an operation that a full body scan was conducted under general anaesthetic and the truth was revealed: on top of the gallstones, her appendix had burst. What rotten luck. It was considered too risky to operate until signs of infection had lessened, so we were sent home with antibiotics, leading to a fractious trip back to Cornwall.

There, we made a trip to our own GP, who looked alarmed and dispatched us to A&E at Treliske. Daughter had her operation on my 42nd birthday, by a wonderful surgeon who specialised in removing adult gall bladders and saw no point in packing her off to a children’s hospital in Bristol that would have little experience in that area, so rare is it in children.

He later told us Daughter was exhibiting the first signs of peritonitis – potentially fatal – and how lucky we were. Frankly, we didn’t need telling.

There were some great people during that time. Daughter still remembers Kevin, the play specialist, who kept her spirits up; while I cherish the humanity shown by the fellow mum who, seeing me in tears, gave me a hug and told me in broken English that it would all be okay.

In Truro, we were given a room opposite the reception desk on the ward in Truro because they felt we needed it. Daughter took her first post-op steps to meet Pudsey Bear.

But there were also times (not at Treliske) when it felt like people were too busy, or we were just unimportant or irritating. If I’d had Martha’s Rule back then, you can bet your bottom dollar I’d have rung that number without hesitation.

We trust doctors to do the right thing, and don’t always like to question their medical decisions. But some are better than others, and they are prone to overwork in an overloaded NHS. Some illnesses, like Daughter’s, present in ambiguous ways. Ultimately, like everyone, they are fallible.

Martha’s Rule was launched on what would have been Martha Mills’ 18th birthday.

I’m deeply grateful that during one of the darkest times of their lives, Martha’s parents channelled their grief and fought to make life safer for others. They can be reassured that, tragic and unnecessary though her death was, she has left a lasting legacy that will protect others from the same fate.