The NHS seems to take a bashing more often than is justified. It seems that despite the fact that it’s been rated the best healthcare system in the world in 2014 ( http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/jun/17/nhs-health ) and 18th in the world by the W.H.O in 2000 there is in some corners of the world an Agenda against it. Recently when chatting to an American friend he was shocked to hear that I went straight from an ambulance to intensive care with a patient to nurse ratio of 1:1.
He’d been “told” the NHS was a poor third world rated system.
I was always touched by the kindness shown to me by hospital staff Hospital.
I was always touched by the kindness shown to me by hospital staff Hospital. Doctors, sisters and nurses who came for a social “chat” cleaners and auxiliary nurses who would find time to help, often it’s the little things, the moments of genuine human care that count. Having spent four months in hospital I saw it a lot. I also saw nurses and doctors suffer both from the emotional and physical impact the job had on them. I saw both Doctors and Nurses crying… and I saw that helpless look in their eye as they continued a difficult shift after loosing a patient: often they we’re given no time to deal with the shock and loss… they had to push on. It was often disturbing to know that the nurse stood before me taking my routine observations of temperature, pulse and blood pressure had only moments earlier had failed to in her fight to save a patient. yet here she was, doing the job. Often fighting back the tears. From the extreme of their job to the routine. No break inbetween.
In recounting my time fighting Pancreatitis I’ve not yet mentioned how much I missed my then three month old son Arthur. It was a painful time. I was scared he’d lose his father. He wasn’t allowed to visit me in Intensive Care and unfortunately on my first admission into High Dependancy it was decided I and some of the other patients were too ill.
On the ward however I was lucky to have a private side room and he was allowed to see me. However for our first reunion it was decided to take me off ward. This was a big step as I’d not been anywhere but the wards and CT scans for almost a month. I’d also not seen Arthur for just as long and my last memory of him was as I held onto his tiny calf as they took me to intensive care.
A very nice nurse call Sam came to get me ready. But I was all over the place. I couldn’t stop crying. By now I’d realised I had almost died. Arthur had been so very close to losing his Father. “I don’t want to cry in-front of him. it might upset him”
“Don’t worry about crying he’s just a baby. Give him a great big hug. You’re so lucky” Sam said as she gave me a hug. Sam spent some of her valuable time preparing me, talking to me. “He will know who you are” she said.
I had become worried he wouldn’t remember me, the feeling would continue throughout my stay in Hospital. My wife took me down into the main entrance to meet Arthur where he was with his Grandma. I fought the tears so very hard, I almost succeeded until he gave me his biggest broadest smile.
For weeks i’d listened to people telling me how lucky I was to be alive. I’d heard their words. Now I finally understood them.