I knew the NHS's struggles, but as a patient, I witnessed its beauty.
I attended 'Nye', a play about Aneurin Bevan, the Labour MP who fought for a national health service. It left me uneasy, for Bevan's feat was immense. No other minister could have mustered the vision, strength, and energy to establish the NHS in those challenging post-war years, ensuring its permanence.
As a journalist, I've analyzed the NHS's crises, statistics, debates, potential, and expenses. But when you become the patient, it's different. I arrived at the emergency department, facing a potential major surgery and a week of hospital care, or perhaps a self-resolving condition.
In other places, you might find warmth and empathy in similar situations, but the NHS offers something more. It's not just about free healthcare; it's the shared journey. Everyone, regardless of wealth, ends up here when seriously ill. You don't envy others' facilities; you know they're likely just behind the curtain next to you.
There's a collective goal—to get better. You don't want to die, and the staff works tirelessly to prevent it. You feel seen and valued, even in pain. The dedication of the staff is remarkable; they care for the uncooperative and incontinent with patience and love.
Studies show that frequent users are the NHS's biggest advocates. When you're there, you understand. The kindness is palpable; strangers connect, helping each other. It's a community of shared vulnerability and support.
Despite its flaws, the NHS fosters resilience and love among its staff. Bevan's own experiences inspired him, and we must recognize the invaluable asset we have, regardless of its future trajectory.
Anne Perkins, a former Guardian correspondent, shares her personal encounter with the NHS, inviting readers to reflect on its significance.
