This week the NHS is 60 years old. I
know it is a popular pastime to moan about the ever beleaguered
institution and to prophesise its imminent demise but it truly is a
wonderful thing. Just think about it, free health care from the
cradle to the grave. Yes, I know we pay for it with our taxes but it
is free at source when you most need it, whether that be after
evening of binge drinking, drilling through your hand whilst doing
DIY, or contracting a life threatening disease. Or, like me, have a
congenital condition of the kind that makes insurance companies reach
for the 'Sorry Closed' sign and avoid eye-contact with you. But how
good is it? This good.
Yesterday morning, on the hottest day
of the year so far, Polly and I got into our non air-conditioned van
and drove in to London for me to attend the Lind clinic at the Royal
Brompton Hospital as I do about once every six months. The Brompton
is a hospital with a world-wide reputation as a centre of excellence
for treating heart and lung disease and is a place I have been
attending for the last eight years when I was first hurtled there in
an ambulance with lights flashing and siren blaring after failing to
recover from double pneumonia and escape from my local hospital's
intensive care unit after 3 months. The lung wing of the hospital is
based in a Victorian building and Lind ward is on the top floor. The
waiting area is a long corridor packed with wheelchairs and people
attached to portable ventilators and oxygen tanks. It's one of the
few times I look at a group of people and think 'Cor, look all those
cripples. I'm really fit.'
After a while someone cuts my earlobe
with a razor blade and takes blood with which to analyse my gasses
from. They check my BiPap machine settings and then it's back to the
increasingly hot and crowded corridor where I slalom my way back
through the wheelchairs, walking frames and oxygen tanks. We wait a
little longer and then are invited in to a consultation room where I
am seen by a doctor. We've met before and he is familiar with my
condition. My blood gasses are just about okay but the time has come
for me to use the ventilator for an hour or so during the afternoon
to rid myself of excess CO2. Deep joy.
I hate using the BiPap during the day.
I'm not that keen on it at night but when it broke down a few months
ago I discovered what it was like to go without it. I'd spent the
following day in a miserable fog of Carbon Dioxide infused headaches.
So, love it or hate it, I'm stuck with it. Life with out it would be.
. . well, short. The trouble with using it during the day is that it
ties you down. You are connected to the machine via a mask and hose
and the machine is connected to the mains via. a cable and plug
socket. So you are stuck in one place for at least an hour. And they
want me to do this every day. Now this is where it gets good.
They asked me what I needed.
I told them I needed a face mask that
was suitable for use during the day. The mask I have been using is a
small nasal mask which I fancy makes me look like a WWII fighter
pilot, but in reality makes me look like a demented scuba diver. It
is fine for sleeping with but if you move around it leaks and cold
air under pressure is blown in to your eye. It also has a tendency to
whistle tunelessly in time with my breathing. I also wanted a way to
move around and if possible get outside, more than a few feet from a
power socket, so did my BiPap have an internal battery? No. Go and
see Steve said the doctor.
Steve is the ventilator man. Steve
knows more about BiPaps, Cpaps and all things ventilatory than any
one in the south of England. So, while Polly went to book my next
appointment I took the lift downstairs to the sleep labs, where Steve
hangs out. He greeted me in his usual friendly manner and after
listening for a minute vanished in to a store room to reappear with a
couple of items. The first was a new type of face mask that plugs
directly into my nostrils and is so sophisticated it comes with its
own CD-Rom and carrying case. The second item was a battery the size
of a small paperback book. Steve apologised that it didn't come with
a case but the company that supplied the battery changed extra for
them. He reckoned that if you paid £500 (that's $997 or €631)
for a battery you should get a protective cover thrown in.. He showed
me how to connect it to the Bipap and then stuck a 'Property of The
Royal Brompton Hospital' sticker on it and that was that. I wheeled
away with both the things I needed to make using the ventilator
during the day practical and comfortable. There were no quibbles, no
money handed over, I didn't even sign anything. They just gave me the
equipment for as long I need it. How good is the NHS? That's how
good.
Happy Birthday!
