George is 65, has liver cancer and has lived his life as a roofer. When I visit his top-floor flat to organise transferring him to a hospice, he tells me that when he looks out of his one-paned windows, with the pigeons flying by, he’s reminded of all the sunsets he has watched when living or working in the sky. He remains amazed at how the light slips away, gives rise to crepuscular rays, dust and smoke, a fading day. He is grateful for this.

I ask about his yellow-tinged skin and he says his mother was Irish and his father Caribbean. He hasn’t noticed this skin colour is a change unlikely to have originated from either parent; it is, in fact, a prognostic indication that he’s starting to die. He is dying without pain medication as he couldn’t access a GP service and it’s now out of hours. In his poorly-maintained flat he is dying without a place to open his bowels because the commode will not fit. He is dying with bed sores because similarly there is no room for a hospital bed and mattress. He has a chest infection from the mould in the building. It’s months since he had a mental health review and he’s depressed but does not have the physical strength to harm himself: he would if he could.

George’s flat is freezing cold because the heating doesn’t work, but he can’t afford to turn it on anyway. He cannot access warm water to clean himself or his wounds. No district nurse has visited because there aren’t enough to go round. A neighbour sometimes brings him food, but he hasn’t eaten today and his blood sugars are dangerously low. The treatment plan for this man now is a hospice bed. It’s not safe for him to stay at home, but he would like to die with basic human rights and, thankfully, tonight our hospice can offer this. All his problems are preventable and treatable; not a single one is an acceptable part of living with a life-limiting condition like cancer.

The vote to strike was a historic moment for nurses and I fully support it, although only a strictly-governed number of nursing trusts were allowed to strike, and I wasn’t one of them. The strike isn’t just a fight for fair pay, it also highlights the never-ending cycle of failed Conservative plans that see an NHS gasping and in pain, facing the end of its life without high-quality care.

The latest this week? The government reports they are releasing their Urgent and Emergency long-term plan. I have worked in the NHS for nearly ten years and have seen many plans, none of which has saved the NHS. Why? Because they aren’t listening to the workers, those on the front line who know their jobs inside out and feel their profession is not by definition rocket science, but becomes so when we lack the resources, digital platforms, staff and working environment to fulfil our tasks.

It couldn’t be more simple. People’s health is influenced by a range of social, economic and environmental factors. We have been treating patients at crisis point for long enough. We need to keep people living well at home, in their communities, and this starts by investing in health and social care, not in our intensive and emergency care settings. Our intensive care units are often gleaming. People’s homes and lives are not. They need heating and water, they need access to community nurses, mental health services, GP appointments, affordable food, and places to go that make them feel valued and part of society. Putting communities at the very centre of healthcare is the long-term plan, not just another plaster over a gaping wound.

The organisation I work for is predominantly charity-funded and needs to fundraise £15m a year to provide the services we do. We rely on our community and they rely on us. The NHS provides approximately 30% of our revenue. The service we provide is far-reaching and extraordinary. It ranges from expert symptom control, supporting psychological wellbeing, complementary therapies, advice on welfare and finances, rehabilitation to strengthen bodies battered by chronic conditions, breathing management classes and 24/7 advice and support in people’s homes.

It is a pleasure and a joy to be a nurse – striking is a last resort. So here are just some of my recommendations: recruit and retain; make working conditions better in terms of pay, flexible working, and safe staffing levels, so we can effectively do our jobs; improve our Jurassic IT systems so that we can deliver coordinated and informed care where patients feel looked after by everybody involved; fund our primary care services; fund mental health; fund maternity services; fund palliative care; empower people to use the community to look after themselves and invest in these places; tackle the cost of living so people can eat, heat their homes and keep well. I will always be a nurse. Know that when we call you from the waiting room, see you at the bedside, wake you from your operation, dress your wound, talk with your family, change your breathing tube, take your blood, and listen to your fears, we are loving our job. You are our passion and that is our power. It is more than this government will ever provide.

Molly Case currently works in palliative care. In April 2013, she performed her poem “Nursing the Nation” at the RCN. Her book “How to Treat People” is published by Viking