A Satisfied Customer

  Recently I have had good cause to be grateful for the British National Health Service.
  One Thursday night I woke, at 4.00 am, with a severe pain in my stomach. This came out of the blue with no prior warning or symptoms. Calling the local health centre a charming young General Practitioner visited me at home. She was unable to diagnose the problem but suggested pain killers and plenty of drink. Not wishing to make a fuss I did not contact them again on the Friday; however, by Saturday it was sufficiently painful to try the emergency service who again advised pain killers. On Monday morning I took a taxi to see my GP. After a few minutes he phoned the hospital, and I took another taxi straight there to the, depressingly named, Emergency Surgical Unit. This was very busy with most patients looking a great deal worse than I felt. With this amount of activity there was naturally a wait of a few hours before one of the forty eight beds became free.
  For the next three days I was prodded and poked by an army of doctors, had what seemed to be innumerable blood tests, given a few X-rays and a CT scan, had no food and spent my time wired up to a drip Then a diseased gall bladder was diagnosed. By then it was mid December and with Christmas and New Year looming it was obvious that nothing would be done until January.
  After a preliminary visit to assess my condition for the operation I was back in hospital on the 25th January. Keyhole surgery was performed that day and after two days I was released. Now, just three weeks later, I feel quite perky once more. Although I am being unnaturally careful I hope to be back on the golf course in a few weeks.
  Overall it was a most interesting experience. All the staff that I saw were working hard. The possibility of clotting was dealt with by socks and drugs. Antiseptic handwash containers were everywhere. The Emergency Surgical Unit was run like a ship with X-rays, Scans and even operations being done around the clock which was great as there was no waiting in the night at any of the facilities, and the young Polish porter could propel your wheelchair at high speed down deserted corridors.
  After an experience such as this you feel lucky to be in a country where you don’t have to check your bank balance before deciding if an operation could be afforded. When I am ill I have no requirement for luxury and I do not believe that I could have been better treated medically if I had been a private patient. There of course is the proviso that the NHS works well in an emergency, I don’t know what it would be like for those conditions where operations are needed to relieve discomfort and non threatening pain, can any of you give us your experiences.