Scary Tuesday

 

I admit to being easily scared and I too would have jumped had I stumbled across my furry collar like that!  One way I deal with scary thoughts is to put them into a category of “things not to think about right now” but of course, eventually, they do have to be dealt with.

 

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A procedure was needed.  Simple, routine, day surgery which needed a general anaesthetic in Gloucester Royal.  Thankfully, those who have been in charge of my care so far had acted promptly and done their best to make sure I didn’t have to keep that little worry in my mind for too long and the NHS system worked wonderfully in my favour. Because what’s simple and routine for some, is very scary and rather worrying for others.  I include myself in that group, having inherited the worry gene from my Mum quite some time ago.

 

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So yesterday, my view of the world was a little different from normal. 

This isn’t something I’d normally be blogging about.  As well as the “no need to worry about this right now” category in my mind, there’s also a “something to keep private” category as well.  But I felt I had to share what I think was exemplary service from everyone involved, because all too often we hear of anything but, especially where the NHS is concerned.

I worked out, it was more than 40 years since I’d had a general anaesthetic (I know, strange when I’m only 34, isn’t it?! Winking smile)   I freely admitted to feeling scared at the prospect and though I could manage it all to some extent, as those around me were wheeled off for their treatment, eventually, of course, my turn came closer and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

Fortunately, each member of staff I came across from the moment I arrived was a true pro.  Every one of them introduced themselves beforehand, explained what their role was and reassured me of their best.  Not rocket science, I know, but nevertheless, not something to take for granted.  Ahmed the charming anaesthetist assured me that he was going to be by my side throughout and Jose, the delightful young surgeon promised me she’d come back afterwards and give me her honest opinion.  I was confident that I was in capable hands!  No worries there, then. Well…not quite so many, anyway.

Of course, I’d expect the medical staff to be thoroughly professional and have the highest standards. What I found most reassuring was that everyone was like that.  Nurses, admin staff, cleaners – every single one of them did their best to make sure I was ok and comfortable.  I really couldn’t have asked for more.  What’s more, I wasn’t privileged in any way.  The treatment I had was the same for everyone, regardless.  First class healthcare available to all whenever it’s needed.  Not exactly free, because (i hope!) we all pay our taxes, but free to all intents and purposes and one of the huge benefits of being born when and where I was.  Once again, I found myself counting my blessings.

 

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Bravo Gloucester Royal, then.  Thank you, NHS.  I won’t say it was fun but it wasn’t anything like as bad as I feared. 

Not that I want to make a habit of it, you understand.

Three cameras

Sometimes, it’s hard to be a hero