But while things were not all rosy, there were definitely ups as well as downs, and overall it felt like a very British affair, trying hard but failing to pull off anything with efficiency or flair - think the cringing British efforts at the Olympic handover (Boris Johnson, need I say more) after the sheer enormity and genius of the Chinese show ... but then, in that typical British way, we love our crapness and slight eccentricity in so many areas of life - Eddie the Eagle for President! I just don't think a health service is where we should really be putting up with such a kooky approach to standards ...So in the interests of balance, here is a short summary of the highs and lows of that great British institution - the NHS.
FOR:
- IT'S FREE!!!! At no point since returning to the UK has anyone asked me for any money, with food, care, medecines and crutches made available upfront and without a single question about income or insurance. When compared to Jordan, where none of these things are provided without flashing the cash, or even somewhere like France, where you generally have to pay upfront for all but absolute emergency treatment and then fill out a million forms to get some/all of it reimbursed, the lack of having to worry about money on top of being ill is a blessing, and don't you forget it!
- the many kind nurses and patients who gave me support and made me smile during the long days in hospital. Although I was starting to go stir crazy (even after a relatively short time compared to so many), I felt that I could get through it and could have gone on for longer if necessary. The eternal patience of the nursing staff in particular was a joy for myself and others, and they deserve so much more pay and recognition than they get!
- free availability of pain killers; I was offered a veritable cocktail whenever I asked for it, and we all love the morphine machine ...
NOT SO FOR:
- wards; I know it's a far more efficient use of space, but it only takes one thoughtless biddie or one person in extreme pain to make life for everyone else more uncomfortable
- bureaucracy and note-taking; this was probably the bit that worried me the most - I had a file as thick as an (old-style) telephone book after only a week, but it seemed to consist of a lot of unused pages and forms and then relevant notes either missing, unclear or just plain wrong. For example ...
1. My operation notes and post-op plan did not appear in my file for three days (interestingly corresponding to the May bank holiday), so that for each of those days the doctor on call did not have any idea what had happened to me and what needed to happen next. Twice in those three days the new doctor asked why I was still in hospital and tried to send me home, and it was up to me to explain that due to complications I was supposed to be staying in and resting for a re-evaluation after five days. Good job I was on the ball (while under the effects of major drugs too) and not less feisty or, God forbid, foreign and unable to understand what was going on ...
2. My drugs notes appeared to be spread out all over the place, leading to one drug not being given to me for 3 days. I also had a problem with my antibiotic drip, which I was on for 48 hours before my last operation to fight off a cellulitis infection. I ended up being given the antibiotics for 72 hours in total, rather than for another 72 hours after the operation as the surgeon had requested. Lucky I have a strong immune system eh ...
3. On the morning after my last surgery, I was visited by the registrar who knew my case and he gave me a very brief outline of what had happened and told me to stay in bed and keep the leg elevated at all times. However, someone wrote in my notes that my leg was ready for touch-weightbearing after surgery, and barely 5 minutes after the registrar had gone a woman from physio arrived and announced that I was going to start learning to walk with the leg. I thought she meant hobbling on one leg, but when I got out of bed and was ready to go she strapped a shoe on the bad leg and explained that I was going to have to get used to putting some weight on it as soon as possible. I was a bit confused and said that this didn't sound right, but she insisted that my notes indicated that I was ready for this and pushed me into trying at least one step. I did and it hurt like hell, and fighting back some tears I explained to her that it all didn't make sense because the registrar had been there 5 minutes before telling me not to put any weight on it whatever I did. To be fair, the physio did look confused as well at that point, and I also spotted the registrar down the corridor and suggested that she go and talk to him. She did and came back apologising and telling me to get back into bed. And yet ... the next day the same conversation with a different registrar, as my notes still hadn't been changed, and I would not let this one leave until 'NON-WEIGHTBEARING' had been written in big letters on my file where everyone would see it. Again, lucky I'm feisty and was able to take in what the doctor said through my haze of drugs, rather than acquiescing to doing what I was told even when those things didn't add up ...
All not very confidence-inspiring, and could have turned out so much worse ...
- doctors with shockingly poor bed manners. I thought that this must be one of those stereotypes dating from the bad old days, but was shocked to find that to this day so many of the surgeons and other senior consultants I came across really are that aloof, arrogant and puffed up with their own superiority over us lesser mortals. One guy in particular made me cringe - the first he appeared at the end of my bed with his gaggle of students he ignored me completely even after I said hello. His second visit was even better - I'd been listening to the radio on headphones and didn't notice him arrive, but took off my headphones and apologised when I saw that he was looking at me and saying something. However, for having the temerity to address him AKA God of the known universe I was repelled with the well-deserved comment "I'm not talking to you" and duly ignored again for the rest of the visit. Feeling the love I was not ....Overall rating of the experience so far? I choose another truly British phrase from the school reports of our yesteryear (and today?) - "could do better"
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