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Today the British National Health Service (NHS) celebrates 62 years, and so do I this year. We were both born in 1948, one of the most amazing years in history when some significant world events took place. Though, in fact, the NHS is three months younger than I am, we both appreciate the value of being 62 in experience, knowledge and hard knocks. But emotionally, I am much younger in style and attitude because i have not been exposed to its tales of woe, constant criticism or doom and gloom, neither do I live in the past! We merged together when I joined it as a trainee nurse between 1967 and 1969 but the merger did not last too long, barely 21 months, killed off by a particularly virulent bout of racism.
I came to Britain to be a nurse in Kings Lynn General hospital and left partly because of poor treatment 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 62 years old, this Grand Dame is doing just fine.
I have been a Type 2 diabetic for nearly 12 years now. Every single tablet I have taken has been free of charge. For the first few years I was on 4 tablets daily, 1460 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 30 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 cavalry rode to my rescue. It truly 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. That didn't work either.
After being prescribed another drug, I just got the good news, barely 3 months later, that I am 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, even if I am now on 10 tablets daily (3650 this year!).
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, sang along loudly to the tune on my Ipod and headed home. It was good to be alive and feeling valued!
A Very Happy Birthday, NHS. May you see many, many more! :o)
©Elaine Sihera (Ms CYPRAH) 2010
Emotional Health and People Management Consultant
"Respect and love begin with the self. If we have none, how can we give away any?"
