Time For A Change?

You can’t deny the NHS is a wonderful concept; free healthcare for all, regardless of finances, age or gender. Great idea, it’s just a shame that it doesn’t seem to actually work.

Seeing a doctor is so hard most of us will wait until we’re bleeding out of our eyes before we will try and get an appointment. It’s scary that we live in a society where guns, knives and drugs are supposedly so available but getting access to a doctor is harder than getting through Simon Cowell on an X Factor audition.

I believe anyone should be able to see a doctor that day, or that hour, whether at a surgery or at home if they are not able to travel. I believe that everyone should have access to all the treatments they need regardless of age, gender or condition. I thought this was the overall purpose of the NHS, but this purpose has become totally skewed by lack of funds. And I can’t help but wonder whether we are all suffering at the hands of a very noble, yet in my opinion futile, dream.

The news is full of horror stories about people being refused life saving drugs because they don’t live in the right postcode, or because they’re too old, IVF not available to women over a certain age, BMI or because they smoke. All of this seems to contradict the whole point of the NHS. It’s been in the news recently that Britain has among the lowest cancer survival rates in the Western world. Isn’t that scary?

I have a few friends in America (which is incidentally at the top of the list of cancer survival rates in the recent study) who, while admitting healthcare insurance is expensive, seem to be able to get access to doctors whenever they need to, specialist doctors at that. And, as much as it scares me to say it, the standard of care seems to be much higher.

Like education, I believe that healthcare should be free for all, but not at the cost of quality healthcare.

On Wednesday, after being poorly for days (hadn’t called the doctor, I was just too ill to face interrogation by the receptionist only to be offered an appointment next Thursday week with some random doctor I’ve never even heard of), I eventually decided I should get some advice. It took 3 calls to (and call backs from) NHS Direct, and an hour fruitlessly calling the (constantly engaged) out of hours doctors service, before a doctor eventually rang me and arranged to come and see me at 11pm. Exhausted by 11pm I decided to cancel and try to see my own doctor the next day. But the out of hours number was still engaged. Thank god for 1471, the number the doctor had called me on was answered straight away. I don’t know whether or not this is an organisational oversight or some kind of tactical error, but it seems strange that the number provided by the doctor is constantly engaged. Anyway, the doctor was already on his way, he arrived (at midnight) and gave me some antibiotics. All’s well that ends well but I came out the other side noticeably worse for ware and with even less confidence in the system.

You could argue that if I’m that bothered about it I could pay for private healthcare. But you still have to see a regular GP in order to get a private referral, and that doesn’t seem any better a system. I think we either need to improve the NHS, or go with a fully privatised, insurance covered system.

I just don’t see how we can improve the NHS; I have absolutely no doubt that the people who work for the NHS are doing the very best they can. But despite having wonderful people, it’s quite obvious that there simply isn’t enough money to do it properly.

I am lucky enough to have had some wonderful treatment through the NHS but I have also had some shocking experiences. Surely healthcare is something we should never be expected to compromise on?

However noble, it’s a very naïve and romantic dream to expect to have a perfect free healthcare system, a perfect free education system and all the other things we believe is our right in the this country. I like the idea of it, I just don’t see how it’s possible. And realistically what’s more important, the health of the nation or nursing (excuse the pun) an outdated concept?

Bluergh...

I’m ill. Writing this from my sickbed, so expect a load of old waffle in today’s post. Although I’m secretly hoping to bang out a masterpiece, didn’t all the great writers write their best stuff when delirious with fever and succumbing to romantic diseases?

Anyway, I don’t really feel up to much today. Alas, I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m not one of those great writers who can write amazing things whilst having a fever, my brain is like mashed potato and I’ve got the aches, plus I keep on being side tracked by This Morning and losing my train of thought. This is why I usually write in the kitchen in silence. I’m far too easily distracted.

Why does illness always comes at the worst possible time? The man is off work on his last days of holiday, we were going to do some fun stuff with the kids. Instead I’m sitting in bed, stewing in my own filth, battling fever, while the man gets on with everyday stuff like the washing and keeping the kids entertained. But at least he’s home to look after me and I can text him every time I want something, the modern version of the sick bell.

I’d like to say I’m a great patient, one of these people who can suffer in silence, and get on with it while secretly feeling at deaths door. But if I’m ill everyone’s going to know about it. I’ll stay on my feet martyring myself til the last possible second, then (when possible) take myself to bed moaning and groaning, and repeatedly apologising for being ill.

I hate being ill. You get to do really fun stuff, staying in bed, watching rubbish telly and eating ice cream (for the sore throat of course) but you can’t really enjoy it like you can when you’re well. Yesterday I actually watched Antiques Roadshow and it was pretty good. Why don’t we do this stuff when we’re well and can appreciate it?

Being ill makes me realise that I never really appreciate being well. I always tell myself I’ll be a lot more mindful of being well once I’m better. But as soon as I’m well again I just get on with my life and forget to appreciate not having a headache, being able to swallow without difficulty, not having fire burning in my ears or aching muscles and feeling like my skin is too tight. It’s always the way that we never notice the good things.

Thankfully I’m not ill often, but when I am I try to make the most of it and do the things that I never do when I’m well. Sitting in bed slothlike and stinking (I’m sure I’d feel so much better, or at least wouldn’t keep making myself feel sick with my own smell, if I had a shower, but I don’t think I could stand up that long), drinking tea with sugar in it and watching Jeremy Kyle, one of the best ways to make you count your blessings. It really makes you grateful for your own boring life, not having to worry about being pregnant with triplets by 3 different men, or finding out your husband was sleeping with his Gran.

Being ill forces you to check out of your normal life and view it from the outside looking in. It’s a rare and very valuable time when you simply have to sit still and do nothing. Sickness is horrible but I’m lucky that it doesn’t happen often so try to really take stock and appreciate how lucky I am. It always follows that a period of hardship can help you appreciate the good things.

So I’m really looking forward to being better when I will really appreciate feeling good in myself, in the meantime I’m making the most of Jeremy Kyle and the ice cream. Come on, it’d be rude not to.