24 Hours in A&E

 There is a long-running documentary programme in the UK called '24 Hours in A&E', which has been running since 2011 and is now in its 30th series. For transatlantic readers, A&E stands for 'Accident and Emergency', pretty much the equivalent of ER in the US. Simply, it films an A&E department during 24 hours and makes a 45 minute documentary based on that time period.

I have watched much of it, and it was one of the few things that Cro and I made time to watch, though I have a few series to catch up on over the last three years, as during that time maybe hospital has been a bit too familiar to provide much entertainment escapism.

But the thing about this programme is that it has a really intelligent and humane outlook because, although it shows you the reality of being a staff member in the department that sometimes has minutes to save someone's life, the real focus is on the patients and their families. It is really all about relationships and about how the essentials of life are laid bare when life itself is under threat. 

The saying - which my mother was fond of repeating - that "There's no pockets in a shroud" is only one of the reminders to us that all the material achievements of our lives are not what we will be thinking about when it comes to its close or when it is under threat. It brings tears to my eyes to know that when a scary London 'roadman' or gang member is bleeding out, the person they will ask for is their mum. Life is built around love, and the great feature of 24 Hours in A&E is that they realised it and focused on relationships from the start. 

There are individual characters who stick very clearly in my mind years later, because the relationships were so clearly shown. I may not be able to track down links to the correct episodes but can remember a lot of the detail. 

In one episode a man, who was a doctor himself, brought in his 70-something father who had a suspected Acute Aortic Aneurysm, the deadly AAA, which can - as he knew - kill you in minutes. They interviewed the doctor, very sensitively, about his family and father. They were from a South Asian background, but he had been born in the UK, and he admitted that shows of emotion were not seen between fathers and sons. He admitted that neither of them had ever said 'I love you' - that was just the norm. But it was clear of course that each of them did love and admire the other, and that this was very emotional for both. It was beautiful to hear two very intelligent but reserved men open up about the life they had shared and the history in it all. And when, against all expectations, the father survived the rescue operation, they asked the son again if he had now told his father he loved him. "No", he replied shyly, "But I think he knows."

Another really memorable episode, was a very very simple case of an old man finally reaching the end of his natural line, having declined through his late eighties and being ready to die in his early nineties. He had been brought in by his granddaughter, a young woman of about 20, who had been his everyday carer for the last three of four years, and who had clearly given up much of her teen years to look after her grandfather. 

They interviewed her about all her memories of her grandfather, and she explained how much he had helped and supported her own mother when she ended up as a single parent. And the steady love that she had felt from her family had clearly influenced her own character and choices. And when - as she knew that her grandfather was now dying - they asked how she felt now about the teen years that she had spent looking after him and so much in his company, her reply was simple and so moving.

"I feel blessed," she said. "Blessed."