In praise of the NHS

In October, my friend Tim took a tumble from his horse and broke his arm.  The ambulance scooped him off the South Downs and took him to Eastbourne.  The surgeon waited a week to make sure that surgery was absolutely necessary, and then did a very neat carpentry job of screwing a mending plate in.  Tim has had physio subsequently, and, apart from not being warned of the addictive nature of cocodamol, he was most satisfied with the service of the Health Service.

My mum broke her wrist a couple of weeks ago, slipping on ice.  A&E at the Norfolk and Norwich patched her up, and she was to have had an operation the following day.  However, too many idiots drove too fast up the A11 and crashed into each other in the treacherous conditions that the theatre was full, and she was put off for a week.  She’s now had her op – in at 7am, out at 2pm:  amazing.  The nurses were excellent, she says, and the general service was really very good indeed.

Hurrah for the NHS.


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