Adam Kay has recently published the brilliant book ‘Dear NHS: 100 Stories to say Thank You’. The book tells the weird, wonderful, and sometimes sad stories courtesy of many celebrities who have offered a look into parts of their lives. It was an amazing read, and I honestly encourage everyone to grab a copy and read it! It literally sums up why we are so bloody lucky to have the NHS- a free, at the point of access, service which has literally looked after, and saved more people’s lives than we could ever imagine; no matter their age, ability and most importantly financial status.
So in the spirit of the book, and because if you’ve read my previous blogs, or you know me, you will realise that I have spent my fair share of time in hospital, and within the NHS system, August’s blog will be a letter from me to the fantastic NHS.
Dear NHS,
You and I have always had a very mixed relationship. We have spent many years together. I can barely remember a month that’s gone by, where I haven’t needed to use you in some form or another; whether that is through my routine appointments, my operations or just through my pure clumsiness, falling off, and into things that really shouldn’t be fallen over or off of! You have been there my whole life.
NHS you were there when I was born to see to me when I unexpectedly came out with a condition my parents were unaware of. You not only made sure I had all the care and surgeries I needed, but also supported my parents through it all- those endless hours waiting for the surgery to be over, those honestly frustrating speech therapy sessions when it really looked like (and felt like) I was getting nowhere, and those little acts of kindness the nurses showed not only me but to my whole family whether that was when I was an inpatient or an outpatient. Had I been in another country, let’s say the USA, I genuinely don’t think that those surgeries would have been done, that speech therapy would have happened, or the other mishaps I have had along the way, been sorted. The price tag for would have been too large and most likely would have crippled us financially. What an insane world we live in, that some people have to re-mortgage, sell prized possessions, or even just live on the line just so they can be sure they will get the best medical care should they ever need it. and should it ever come to that. The NHS you are a life-saver and my family are indebted to you for evermore.
Funnier or weirder stories from the NHS along the way… and there have been many; far too many to put in writing here today! One day I will tell more. However, for now here are just a few…
Imagine this; Little 6 year old Sinead sitting in her living room at home, playing nicely with some beads, making friendship bracelets, with her sisters on the floor, while the TV was going in the background. She then looked at these lovely little beads and thought to herself, ‘I wonder what would happen if I put this near my nose and sniffed it…?’ So this is exactly what I did, and lo and behold, up the bead went into my only working nostril. With a slight panic in my chest about what I had just done, I tried to get it out by myself but failed, and so I went to Plan B, asking Lisa and Ciara to try and get it out for me. They also failed. It was wedged too far in. Plan C- I wandered out to mum in the kitchen, and calmly told her that there was a bead up my nose, and we couldn’t get it out. My mum obviously was more panicked than me (quite rightly) and sent my dad with me to the Walk-In centre to get it removed. The doctor who dealt with me showed no surprise that this had happened, and to be honest having taught Year 1 for 3 years now myself, now I think I would have had the same reaction. Nor did the doctor display anything but kindness and a calm demeanour, despite the fact that due to my stupidity, his precious time was being taken up, time that could have been used more effectively elsewhere. He talked my dad through what was going to happen, and then gave me something to hold while he, and some nurses used the pliers to yank this bright pink bead from up my nose. Having accomplished this, the doctor proceeded to thank me, saying that although it probably wasn’t my smartest move to stick it up there in the first place, he appreciated that I had chosen bright pink, it made the whole process a lot easier!
Next up we have a story that surprisingly (or not if you know my family), involves my twin sister rather than me. We were getting ready for gymnastics one Saturday, quite happily, and we decided that whilst we waited to leave we would play a bit of header football. We were running in and out of the kitchen heading this tiny rubber bouncy ball (yes I know, we didn’t even use a proper, full sized ball… error!) and Lisa being the competitive person she is, went for the big header to finish off the game, and win the point. However, the ball was small, Lisa’s timing was slightly off and so instead of heading the ball, Lisa hit the wall… Hard! You could hear the bang reverberate through her skull, and around the room. Despite this, Lisa held in the pain she must have felt, passing off as just a knock, got into the car ready to go to training. As we pulled up in the road outside the club, Lis told the ‘rents she actually wasn’t feeling too well, opened up the car door, and threw up everywhere. By now the bump was out and combined with the throwing up mum and dad thought she should be checked out. We were quickly dropped off and Lisa taken to get her head properly checked out. Again the lovely people of the NHS, you didn’t bat an eyelid, you didn’t tell Lis off for being an idiot, and playing a game we all knew would eventually end in tears. No you had a look, made her laugh, reassured my parents, patched her up, and sent her on her way to recover at home.
The last few stories are a combination of a few incidents, that have occurred over a number of years. Firstly, back in university, again during gymnastics training, we were finishing up, and I thought I would have a go pushing myself up on the rings and swing. I can’t remember exactly what happened next, but I found myself on the floor having whacked my head somehow, and immediately I knew something was up. However, not wanting to bring attention to myself, I helped pack up the equipment, got myself home, and went to bed hoping that tomorrow everything would be grand. 3 o’clock in the morning I woke up feeling much, much worse, and so again dad was dragged to A&E with me to be checked out. When we arrived, a nurse saw me quickly and decided it was more than a bump, and my neck needed checking out. Without having seen me yet, and unaware I had been sick in the waiting room toilets, she just knew what I needed, and gave it to me. Another time, I slipped over on a wet floor at work, and went down hard on my elbow. I tried again to sort it myself, and waited until the next morning to see if it would heal itself- funnily enough it didn’t, and off we went to have it scanned, checked and sorted. The nurse who checked me out first, made jokes to keep me smiling, and the doctor who x-rayed me realised that trying to twist my elbow over for it to be x-rayed was not the best option, and so he just adapted to make it all that little bit easier for me. These little things they do are just a small part of their day to day lives, but they form a much larger part of our NHS experiences, and I am so grateful for those ‘little things’. Next up we have my most recent trampoline injury- my fractured ankle and torn ligaments. Trampoline injuries make up 13000 hospital admissions or visits a year in the UK. They are dangerous things, and doctors, nurses, radiologists and GPs among others, deal with them on a day to day basis. Did the triage nurse I saw in the Walk-In Centre (the irony!!) scoff and tell me what an idiot I was for getting on one of those things? Did the radiologist lecture me on the danger I was putting myself in? No. In fact, the triage nurse was kind, and interested in what I had been doing, she laughed, and told me a story of what she had done at my age. The radiologist acted as if this wasn’t the umpteenth time he had seen an injury like mine because of a trampoline, or something similar. Neither of them did. They treated me with kindness, respect and interest- nothing less.
I think the point of telling these stories is not only to show what clumsy people we are in my family, but more importantly to show that even when we are being idiots, doing stupid things, and getting ourselves injuries, when really we should have never gotten ourselves into these situations in the first place, you the NHS, and the people who work within you, are simply genius, amazing people who deserve all the admiration and gratitude in the world! You sort us out, calm us down, advise us, and send us on our way, all for free. From the moment we walk through your doors to the minute we walk out, never are we asked for our bank details, or how we will pay for the treatment we have/will receive.
I have always appreciated the NHS, and the staff who work within them. Every day these heroes do remarkable things, and we, more often than not, take this for granted. However, it is only through this pandemic that I have truly recognised and appreciated their sheer brilliance. They have walked into the war-zone of a (then) unknown virus. They have left their families behind to live elsewhere for months on end, not knowing when they will get to see their parents, their other halves, their children again, and more importantly if they will come out the other end unscathed. There are actually no words to express how wonderful these people are and how grateful I will always be!
As I have said already, I cannot express how much I love the NHS, and how much you have all done for me and my family. So from the bottom of my heart…. and know I mean this unconditionally, and with no hesitation; Thank you!!
Sinead xx
What Am I Doing? 