National Health Service.
Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2016 3:59 pm
I write this with our American good friends in mind,
On Saturday I collapsed and was blue lighted by skilled highly trained Para-Medics to the local NHS Hospital, Into the Emergency Room, where I was placed in a cubicle and examined by the duty surgeon,
I was sent for a chest X-Ray then a "CT" scan, the diagnosis was an inflamed heart,
I was taken in my bed to a 6 bed male ward (Modern, bright, and very well equipped) I was hooked up to a monitor and tut tutted by the ward staff better than any mother hen to her chicks, a light snack then given a number of drugs to calm my heart down, then sleep,
The next morning a good breakfast a shower and a natty line in pyjamas (No Not the backless ones)
The Consultant and his entourage came at 0930 am and chatted with each patient, I was told that after examination of my blood and the X-Ray and "CT" scan, I would be having an operation the next day (Monday) or the following day,
I spent the day drinking fruit juice, and coffee, eating a 3 course meal and chatting with the 5 other men in the ward. every 10 minutes we all had a test of our blood pressure ( this was carried out automatically by the computer in the monitor when in bed and hooked up to it, A major accident nearby meant the Monday appointment was moved to Tuesday,
I woke to a shower and a light breakfast then still in bed taken by lift (Elevator) to the 2nd floor where the Consultant surgeon told me exactly what would happen and then listed the positives and the negatives of the operation.
I sighed the consent paper,
And into the Operating theatre I went, I was transferred to the operating table and introduced to the team about to carry out the operation, all young and keen and from every corner of the World,
I got a local anaesthetic through a "Cannula" in my arm, I looked at a huge multi-screen television as the surgeon with a boom mike started. Entry was made through my wrist and he talked as the devise progressed along the inside of my arm,( It did not hurt merely a slight discomfort) shorty he called for a "Stent" giving details of the type and size he required, he moved on then,
"OH"
My endangered heart nearly stopped when he said that,
He then said this was an area of the heart that he could not see with scan or X-Ray when examining the pictures prior to the operation. An an area is worn almost paper thin and is almost certainly the basic cause of the failure.,
I was trembling.
He calmly called for another "Stent" of a certain size the call came back "Loaded" and the surgeon guided it into place, He said "Just going to the edge to make sure we have no more damage"
Then I nearly cried when said "Ok boys and girls heading for the exit" Shortly after the cameras pulled back, the protective screen lifted, and the Monitor darkened,
"Well Shaun you can give serious thought to training for next years London Marathon"!!!
Smiles all round then my bed came into the operating theatre and I was lifted onto it and pushed to the recovery room.
I rested under intense observation for an hour and 30 minutes then wheeled into the lift (Elevator) up to the 3rd floor 6 bed all male "CCU" Coronary care unit ,(This room made a Star Wars set look like something out of a black and white Flash Gordon movie.) ! was plugged into a monitor, and later the Surgeon came by to ask how I felt? then a light supper and sleep,
Woke to bright sunshine and after a larger breakfast the team came doing their rounds and I was told I could go home later that morning !!
Here I am alive and with a future thanks to a dedicated team within the much derided especially by many Americans, British National Health Service.
Cost of the operation to me at the time, NOTHING!!
I and every other taxpayer in the UK pays for it through their wages each month.
And I must emphasize this was a local general hospital in semi-Rural England, not a specialist cardiac unit in a major city teaching hospital.
Shaun.
On Saturday I collapsed and was blue lighted by skilled highly trained Para-Medics to the local NHS Hospital, Into the Emergency Room, where I was placed in a cubicle and examined by the duty surgeon,
I was sent for a chest X-Ray then a "CT" scan, the diagnosis was an inflamed heart,
I was taken in my bed to a 6 bed male ward (Modern, bright, and very well equipped) I was hooked up to a monitor and tut tutted by the ward staff better than any mother hen to her chicks, a light snack then given a number of drugs to calm my heart down, then sleep,
The next morning a good breakfast a shower and a natty line in pyjamas (No Not the backless ones)
The Consultant and his entourage came at 0930 am and chatted with each patient, I was told that after examination of my blood and the X-Ray and "CT" scan, I would be having an operation the next day (Monday) or the following day,
I spent the day drinking fruit juice, and coffee, eating a 3 course meal and chatting with the 5 other men in the ward. every 10 minutes we all had a test of our blood pressure ( this was carried out automatically by the computer in the monitor when in bed and hooked up to it, A major accident nearby meant the Monday appointment was moved to Tuesday,
I woke to a shower and a light breakfast then still in bed taken by lift (Elevator) to the 2nd floor where the Consultant surgeon told me exactly what would happen and then listed the positives and the negatives of the operation.
I sighed the consent paper,
And into the Operating theatre I went, I was transferred to the operating table and introduced to the team about to carry out the operation, all young and keen and from every corner of the World,
I got a local anaesthetic through a "Cannula" in my arm, I looked at a huge multi-screen television as the surgeon with a boom mike started. Entry was made through my wrist and he talked as the devise progressed along the inside of my arm,( It did not hurt merely a slight discomfort) shorty he called for a "Stent" giving details of the type and size he required, he moved on then,
"OH"
My endangered heart nearly stopped when he said that,
He then said this was an area of the heart that he could not see with scan or X-Ray when examining the pictures prior to the operation. An an area is worn almost paper thin and is almost certainly the basic cause of the failure.,
I was trembling.
He calmly called for another "Stent" of a certain size the call came back "Loaded" and the surgeon guided it into place, He said "Just going to the edge to make sure we have no more damage"
Then I nearly cried when said "Ok boys and girls heading for the exit" Shortly after the cameras pulled back, the protective screen lifted, and the Monitor darkened,
"Well Shaun you can give serious thought to training for next years London Marathon"!!!
Smiles all round then my bed came into the operating theatre and I was lifted onto it and pushed to the recovery room.
I rested under intense observation for an hour and 30 minutes then wheeled into the lift (Elevator) up to the 3rd floor 6 bed all male "CCU" Coronary care unit ,(This room made a Star Wars set look like something out of a black and white Flash Gordon movie.) ! was plugged into a monitor, and later the Surgeon came by to ask how I felt? then a light supper and sleep,
Woke to bright sunshine and after a larger breakfast the team came doing their rounds and I was told I could go home later that morning !!
Here I am alive and with a future thanks to a dedicated team within the much derided especially by many Americans, British National Health Service.
Cost of the operation to me at the time, NOTHING!!
I and every other taxpayer in the UK pays for it through their wages each month.
And I must emphasize this was a local general hospital in semi-Rural England, not a specialist cardiac unit in a major city teaching hospital.
Shaun.
. Oh damn.... I went there! 
at the sight of my foot fixed improbably in a 4 o'clock position. Bizarrely, I remember savouring the laughing gas in the ambulance with a quite peculiar detachment (reminiscent of your whole encounter with medical professionals!). After a massive whiff, when I though i might lift off like a balloon,
) back in a 12 o'clock position! I did actually begin to laugh when she had to put her own leg up on the gurney to get extra leverage on the wayward pedal extremity... 
