Enough is enough

     Hello, lovelies,

            I have never been so happy to leave a year behind and march, firm footed, into a new year. Normally, I get ever so sentimental and nostalgic over the passing year, but not this time. A new year means that I’m going to be a year older, which is no longer a fun event. My birthday falls just before payday, so I very rarely receive presents. I’m getting to the age where cake causes a massive sugar spike and a rounder tummy, so I can only really look and not eat. And with the past two years, no one knows what we should expect, making a new year a daunting time. So why this year, am I running into the unknown, desperate to get rid of the past and ready for the fight ahead? And believe me, there is going to be a fight. So, the question is, which side are you going to be on? 

               As most people know, last year was not one of my finest. Who knew that a simple trip up some stairs would result in a whirlwind journey through the scary and overwhelming world of ovarian cancer and chemotherapy. I lost my hair, spent most of the summer battling the horrible chemo, and yes, there is a nice chemo. Felt permanently sick, and found that almost all food and drink tasted different. It was not my finest hour. And someone really has to make better chemo caps, as most of them are just horrible, sweat inducing synthetic rubbish. But through all of that, the NHS were there, holding my hand. I was scared, in pain and trying to put my brave face on for the world. But behind me were some of the most amazing people, leading me through possibly the worst time in my life. No question was too stupid. I could call and speak to someone 24 hours a day. The doctors and nurses were falling over backwards to make my cancer journey as smooth and painless as possible. There is honestly no way that I could thank the NHS for what they did for me, and are continuing to do for the next ten years. And that is why I am calling for everyone to stand up and fight for this incredible institution. 

              Now I know that not everyone will ever have to experience the life changing events of cancer, but my NHS story doesn’t end there. At the beginning of December I was performing in a local panto. And as it was coming to a close, I began to struggle, and that was new for me. I didn’t have the energy to do the dances. I lost my breath control, and singing was almost beyond me. And that had never happened before. I have always been able to pull out that last burst of energy and push through till the end. But not this time. I was exhausted, and my body was broken. But with Christmas just around the corner, there was no time to be ill. I, like most people, had just too much to do over the coming weeks. But with the effort of work, I would come home and collapse on my bed. Eating was impossible, and I didn’t realise that I had stopped drinking water too. But I thought that this simple cold would tire itself out, and I would be able to crack on and enjoy Christmas. My asthma was out of control, and even going to see the show that my daughter was stage managing was incredibly difficult. I spent most of Christmas eve and all of Christmas day in bed, and had to take myself off to A&E early on Boxing day. And to my amazement, it was full. But with my inability to breathe I was fast tracked and placed on a bed right behind the main doctors station. I was there for 36 hours, as the doctors battled to get my heart rate below 154 and my blood oxygen levels above 90. I was in a bad way. I had pneumonia. 

         Sitting on the bed, with an excellent view of all the comings and goings of a busy hospital A&E department, my understanding of just how run down and underfunded the NHS became crystal clear. The sheer volume of patients coming in, and the serious lack of beds and staff was evident. Everyone rushed off their feet, exhausted and tearing their hair out with no way to move forward.They were all working on empty. There was a 10 hour wait for an ambulance, and let me tell you why. It has nothing to do with the paramedic crew at all. They were just as frustrated as the hospital staff. When they bring in a patient, they have to wait with them until they are booked in and a place is found for them. But there was nowhere for them to go. No where! So the paramedics couldn’t leave.

         The beds were lined up, as the struggling staff battled to work magic and take care of everyone there. And they did. They worked wonders. No one was left behind. And when I said that I should go home to free up a bed for someone really in need, I was told that I was far too ill to go anywhere. So when they found me a bed on a ward, I was so glad to be able to free up the bed for the next person. But I jumped from one broken system to the next. The nurses on the ward were outstanding, but so understaffed and overworked that they just couldn’t go on. A lovely nurse doing the rounds, went off to pick up my medication, but he never came back. Apparently, he had worked thirteen hours a day for six days, and had collapsed, face first, onto the floor. Leaving only a handful of nurses to take care of nearly forty people. The ratio just wasn’t safe. But this had nothing to do with the dedication and stellar work of the NHS staff, it is all down to the serious and calculated destruction by the government. All for their own profit and backhanders. 

          The people working for the NHS are not doing so for the money or glory. They are working their butts off to help people like me. They have dedicated their lives for the betterment of others, living on pathetically low wages, and most of them living with huge student debts. Is there any wonder why many of them are choosing to leave? They have no choice but to strike. Even though it goes against everything they believe in. So we have to stand behind them, alongside them and even in front of them. We need to add our voices to the collective mix. I saw a nurse in tears, and cleaners helping to feed patients. And the government sits by and tells us that privatisation is the only way forward. And we cannot allow that to happen. 

            If we do not fight and say that enough is enough, and that the NHS is an amazing institution well worth fighting for, then we are in very great danger of losing it forever. There is no way that I could ever afford to pay for all the treatment and ongoing care by myself, and I had been told that if I hadn’t had the operation and chemo, then I would have had about two years to live. The NHS saved my life twice in the last year, and I shudder to think what would have happened if it was no longer there to catch any of us if we happen to fall. 

          So, which side will you be on? The side that believes that the government would never do anything to destroy the NHS? Or on the side that has had enough and will do whatever it takes to stand with everyone who works for and deserves a decent wage for a life saving job? I know which side I am on.