The NHS is celebrating 60 years this year, and so am I. We were both born in 1948, one of the most amazing years in history when some significant world events took place. We merged together when I joined it as a trainee nurse between 1967 and 1969. I came to Britain to be a nurse in Kings Lynn General hospital and left partly because of racism and partly through discovering that I wanted to teach instead. I had mixed feelings of my time spent in it, but I also have friends who benefited from it and have enjoyed a good life from the qualifications they got.
I will not be one of those who will ever knock the National Health Service. I have travelled to a few countries and I have yet to see a national FREE health service that is working so well for the population. The NHS could always be better, as nothing can ever be perfect. There will always be room for improvement. But at 60 years old, this Grand Dame is doing just fine.
I have been a Type 2 diabetic for nearly 10 years now. Every single tablet I have taken has been free of charge, and there were years when I was on 10 tablets daily, 3650 each year. They all had to be paid for, but, thankfully, not by me. Then there are the regular check ups, attendance at diabetic clinics, my feet to be checked annually and my eyes to be checked regularly, and still not a penny from me.
Then 18 months ago the unthinkable happened. My body began rejecting every medication I was given, including insulin, and my world fell in. I was so ill some days, it was unbelievable. And the NHS came into its own during that time. Once a reluctant doctor realised that I was like no one he had treated, he swung into action. I was prescribed six further drugs which had little effect. They all had to be paid for too. But I had no worries about that. I could concentrate on getting well. I didn't have to fret, like my American friends, about having health insurance. Still no change in me as the months rolled by. Then I was referred to a consultant who was very sympathetic when she held my hand and said: "We have one more medication to try and, if that doesn't work, sadly we have nothing currently to help you because you are unusual."
Gulp. It sounded like a death sentence. Just for once I wanted to be like everyone else. I gritted my teeth in determination.
The new injections were designed to stimulate my pancreas to produce its own insulin. The first trial month was fraught with worry. The results were inconclusive (assessed by another consultant) so I was asked whether I wished to continue. I closed my eyes and refused to think of the horrible side-effects I had experienced, trying to block out how low they made me feel, while I concentrated on the potential for making me better. I heard my voice from a distance saying, Yes, I would like to continue.
I just got the good news, barely another month later, that I am definitely on the mend. My progress was 'very good'. I even lost 5 lbs in weight too. Clearly not out of the woods yet, but I can start to smile again, thanks to the NHS.
I came out of the hospital, sat in my car, cried a little bit with gratitude, and pondered where except Britain could I have two consultants, two doctors and one nurse working closely with me to find a solution, all trying to give me the best health care possible and absolutely free of charge. Nowhere else on earth, I decided, as I dried my tears, smiled broadly and headed home. It was good to be alive and feeling valued.
A Very Happy Birthday, NHS. May you see many, many more! :o)
From an incredibly grateful fan.
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