God Bless the NHS

Sometimes something happens that generates the strangest of emotions. Having spent a week commuting to Chelmsford (County Town of Essex and home of the Radio) one would not expect a stirring of patriotism to be the outcome. We, patriotism and I, find ourselves as odd bedfellows due to an unusual confluence of events. Normally the sight of St. George's flag fluttering in suburbia or the Union Jack adorning the back of a white van fills me simultaneous with fear and sadness. The vainglorious tubthumping over the Falklands makes me despair - nation states are possible the most evil creation ever, surpassing even Rupert Murdoch and Chocolate and Cheese Philadelphia. The Treaty of Westphalia has a lot to answer for - if only that window in Prague had been securely closed this could all have been avoided. And yet despite these deeprooted misgivings, a week in Essex made me proud to live in the UK.

Yes, it would have been easier if we could have gone to Chelsea and Westminster hospital but the NHS proved itself to be perhaps the greatest of all things. Yes, the food could have been nicer and the car park was expensive but we should everyday say thanks. Every damned one of us. And then weep a little as we watch the Social Care Bill slowly destroy universal healthcare under a weight of free market dogma and avarice. For a week we were looked after by nurses who were astonishing and who recognised Maddy's voice at three in the morning a week after we'd been discharged and by play specialists who are employed to take the pressure off panicked parents to the consultants and fellows who visited us daily.


They hire people to play with children.

That alone makes me proud and happy. We saw consultants and fellows and anaesthetists and not once did my wallet quake (although M&S yum yums did make the week more expensive than it might have otherwise been). Not once were we even asked for documentation. They just made Bertie better. Brilliant. All this in the public sector which is meant to be staffed by the mogadon and inept.

Go here and do what's right.

Oh and whilst I'm on a roll - let us give thanks for clingfilm and morphine. Why the latter isn't available over the counter, Lord alone knows. Bertie loved the stuff.

What sparked this journey to the heart of the NHS? Bertie had an accident with some hot water resulting in her thigh and calf being scalded. Firstly, for those who didn't know this - don't panic she is  doing really well and in a few months this will be a minor footnote to her life. When we tell people how it happened most immediately recount a story that is far worse to try and make us fell better. Sadly stories don't much help. What rescued us from the whole situation was Bertrand's capacity to astound in the face of syringes, medicine, cannulas and all the rest with an infant equanimity that put us both to shame. Maddy, who spent a week on a fold down chair reliant on hospital food and daytime television, was rock like in the face of it all - and Bertie's remarkably sunny disposition throughout is an undeniable testament to this. Thank You. And we were all standing on the shoulders of giants. While she remains bandaged and there are still a few trips back to Essex to be made - Nancy remains utterly wonderful and we remain chastened but forever grateful to the NHS.

Her continuing and unending glory are happily documented in the photographs below.  The elephantine bandaging that swamped her leg has been paired back and with generous application of creamy muck she regenerates like an end stage Dr. Who. And not a Dalek in sight. Huzzah. And whilst we are on the matter of Bertie her lone tooth, which is now deliriously lovely monolith in her lower gum, has a rival for our affections. A second tooth has started on the long road to freedom - those rice crackers won't know whats hit them.

There has been a massive proliferation of photographs of Bertie so I include some of the very best here. She is something of peach.

Enjoy.

Oh and before I disappear into the ether I am compelled to mention Alex and Amelia who were marvellous throughout - without their car Essex would have seemed a lot further away. And to Jo, Ron and Harriet for their most excellent hospitality (and I am sorry I made you watch that Werner Herzog documentary) beer, food, washing clothing like I was student returning for the holidays and most importantly having a picture of Ron in a dress. 

"And then I said to him, I did, I said "three for a fiver" you must be having a laugh, darlin"

Big Leg. Little Leg.

Gotcha. 

Podger.

Plum

Put that lip away, Beano.

Knackered

Zone 1.