It's
the end of May! (Just to be clear, that's a calendar reference, not a
premonition of the upcoming election. Although who knows.)
Unbelievable
that five months have gone by so quickly – and in our case, so
medically busily.
In
the past five months, four members of our family have needed to call on the NHS a
total of 63 times.
Sixty
three. That's an average of 12 times a month accessing an aspect of the service.
Even
with the inclusion of me as a resource-draining individual, that's a
pretty hefty demand from a small group of people.
The appointments have covered brain, eyes, teeth,
heart, breasts, digestive system, liver, knees, emotional well-being
and countless
blood tests.
They've
required six different consultants in six different specialities, four
different hospitals, 10 specialist nurses, seven general
practitioners, 19 nurses, three radiographers, four dentists and four
pharmacists.
Treatment
has included cardioversion, endoscopy, scans, fine needle aspiration,
eye examinations, x-rays, root canal and a variety of medications.
At
every appointment we've been treated with care, courtesy and
professionalism. Yes, very occasionally we've had to wait a bit but
there's always been an apology.
And
every time there have been an army of other people waiting to be seen
and treated by the same doctors or nurses or dentists in the same
thoughtful and professional manner.
All
that use and we're not even halfway through the year yet.
I've
written previously about my admiration for the NHS and
while I acknowledge parts of it aren't perfect, the thought of being
without it doesn't bear thinking about.
But
an organisation which was formed on three core principals:
- that it meet the needs of everyone
- that it be free at the point of delivery
- that it be based on clinical need, not ability to pay
looks
to be increasingly under threat and that absolutely terrifies me.
I want to support the NHS and I want to thank it and everyone who works in it.
I know what I've got and I don't want it to be gone.
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