Lost in the NHS maze

Next month the National Health Service turns 70. The institution is greatly loved, and not for nothing. The fear of ill-health runs deep in most of us and is ineradicable; but the fear of not being able to afford treatment, which must haunt most of the world’s population, has been abolished in Britain — and for that inestimable benefit we have the NHS to thank.

It is, of course, possible to overrate the quality of this country’s health care. Many do. All things considered, and in a world of first-, second-, third-, fourth- and fifth-rate medical provision, I’d say we British get a second-rate health service for the price of a third-rate one. However, funds are not unlimited, and second-rate isn’t bad. The consensus is that our health service is patchy on preventative care and early diagnosis, but when it comes to the treatment of serious illness or injury (which is what people fear most), performs pretty well.

I’ve reached an age when visiting friends in hospital has become a fairly regular occurrence, so I’m getting to know the insides of the handful of hospitals in my English region pretty well. My experiences as a visitor, and friends’ experiences as patients, all chime: they echo what so many people report about NHS hospitals everywhere.

There’s no reason to think our local hospitals in the Midlands are particular offenders: they’re impressive, their facilities are second to none and they’re making conspicuous efforts to be bright and welcoming places. But the complaints you hear, and the problems I’ve repeatedly experienced, are so very similar, so consistent and so widely reported, that we shouldn’t dismiss as ‘anecdotal’ what almost everyone reports.

‘I just got completely lost, and was wandering around with nobody to ask.’