A couple of weeks ago I spent an afternoon in Accident and Emergency with Louise, my daughter-in-law, who had fallen down the stairs and injured her back. I drove her to hospital and I’m glad I did. Not just for her sake but for the opportunity to see some wonderful people at work. The unit was busy but we were triaged quickly and took a seat. And that’s when I took in the enormity of the treasure that is the National Health Service.
United Nations of Care
The receptionist, a Polish woman who took Louise’s details, answered the phone, responded to queries from her colleagues about the whereabouts of patients, reassured concerned relatives, all performed with compassion. This was the United Nations of Care… triage nurses from around the world taking blood pressures, temperatures and case histories, processing patients in varying degrees of distress and pain. Quiet efficiency doesn’t even come close to describing the scene I witnessed.
Controlled chaos
There was the man in handcuffs, arrested by the police; the tall American man complaining that his partner was not being seen quickly enough; the couple with their twin babies in the buggy, their faces etched with worry and concern; the older man, who I suspect had dementia, with a large gash on his head, his carer repeatedly reminding him where he was and why he was there. I won’t describe any other conditions, but you get the idea. All human life was here and hurting in some form or another. And amongst this controlled chaos, doctors and technicians appeared in the waiting area calling for their next patients, taking them into rooms, behind curtains, to try and diagnose their ailments or injuries and to decide on the next course of action. Most patients were seen, discharged and sent off to the pharmacy to pick up their medications.
Dispensing kindness
Were some people there who shouldn’t have been? Could they have been seen by their GPs or in a minor injury clinic? Possibly, but I didn’t hear that suggestion uttered to any patient… not once. Then, a wonderful moment. A porter came into the department with his trolley offering free sandwiches and hot drinks. I don’t know whether this was a routine occurrence, but I can tell you it was very welcome. Here was a friendly face dispensing kindness and it was wonderful watching him asking the patients what they wanted, with a calming, caring smile.
Behind the scenes
It’s important to stress that the NHS has an administrative backbone provided by receptionists, clerks, and secretaries who work away quietly, very often unappreciated, in the background arranging appointments, transport and onward care. Well, today they are recognised because they too are heroes. It’s also important to realise we were in the A&E where we couldn’t observe the relentless arrival of ambulances containing patients with acute or life threatening conditions. All happening while we waited.
Discharged
After five hours, Louise, was X-rayed, had an MRI scan, seen the doctor, been given some medication and a follow up outpatient appointment. Thankfully, no serious damage was detected and she was advised to be a bit more careful on the stairs.
Now, here’s the thing. My wonderful daughter-in-law is a nurse, a palliative care nurse who, like her colleagues, is driven to the point of obsession to provide the best end of life care she can give. Sitting next to her was humbling as I realised this is what the NHS is, a wonderful care provider for us all in our darkest of times. No money changed hands… no massive bills… just the best of people doing the very best for people. Every single one of the NHS staff I saw (and those I didn’t see) deserve the title ‘Hero’ because that’s exactly what they are.
More in health.
