My interesting bill from the NHS

 Of all things, through the mail this morning I got this hand-written invoice from the NHS for the work they have done for me over the last eight months, starting with my health check on June 16th.

Of course, I didn't really receive it, I just wrote it as a little 'jeu d'esprit' and to remind myself of the thing that is so good about the NHS. I'm not calling it the greatest system, it doesn't have to be, and I know that systems in many countries around the world work really well, but I have a particular love and gratitude for what the NHS has done for my family, especially over the last three years, but as I have a stepdaughter with a serious disability, also for twenty years before that.

And when I say my gratitude is towards the NHS, I should really say it is also towards all the people who imagined it and voted for it and who have continued to make sure it exists by their opinions and their votes ever since. I would like to expand a little on why I like it particularly.

The very worst time to suddenly have to worry about money is when you or a loved one become ill. Too often in my grandparents' time in the 20s and 30s you knew that you could not afford what was needed to keep your loved one, or yourself alive. If you were poor. It might be that even if you were rich, you could not avoid death, but if the treatment existed and you could afford it, then you had a chance. It is rather similar today.

The people in this country who, by-and-large, have least need of the NHS and least need to care about its survival, are people who are very rich (and to cover all forms of treatment, I think that has to mean multi-millionaire). And conversely, the people with most need and most care for the future of the NHS are those with little social capital. 

When Steve Jobs contracted the awful condition of pancreatic cancer, he was able to source the best medical care available whatever the cost. He died despite that fact, though he survived several years. What I like about the NHS is that if you have no spare capital at all, you can still find that your necessary treatment is of the highest possible standard and your bill at the end will look like mine. It just takes away a burden which should not be added to the one of serious illness. 

And to conclude this little love letter to the NHS, I would like again to quote the poem by Michael Rosen, which he wrote on the occasion of one of the recent NHS anniversaries. And as my friends will know, Cro died on exactly the 75th anniversary, and I read this poem on our local TV station. 

These are the hands

These are the hands
That touch us first
Feel your head
Find the pulse
And make your bed.

These are the hands
That tap your back
Test the skin
Hold your arm
Wheel the bin
Change the bulb
Fix the drip
Pour the jug
Replace your hip.

These are the hands

That fill the bath
Mop the floor
Flick the switch
Soothe the sore
Burn the swabs
Give us a jab
Throw out sharps
Design the lab.

And these are the hands
That stop the leaks
Empty the pan
Wipe the pipes
Carry the can
Clamp the veins
Make the cast
Log the dose
And touch us last.