The NHS is broken

I loved the NHS. I have had the badge on my Twitter avatar when it's been under attack. My first job was in the NHS (as a medical scientist), my mother was a nurse, my father was a hospital porter, my uncle an ambulance driver, my sister a laboratory biochemist and my ex-wife a public health service microbiologist. The NHS has helped my kids be born, looked after my friends and family when they've needed it and my parents have died there. So you can see my affection for it.

But I think its time is over and should be dismantled. A recent experience has opened my eyes to its core problems.

On Friday evening at 6pm I got a call from a local park that my 16 year old daughter had collapsed and had been unconscious for 30 minutes. Of course I sped there, found her and called an ambulance. While waiting I thought she was having a fit, shoulders twitching uncontrollably. The ambulance was there in 10 minutes, great expertise from the paramedics who took her to A&E at Warrington Hospital.

Loads of administrative and nursing staff there, so she was directed within 10 minutes to the paediatric emergencies. Again they had five nurses and an administrator and was seen very quickly and efficiently and assessed by a nurse who said she needed to see a doctor. From my phone call to here had taken less than 50 minutes, had involved many people. Very good. Two and a half hours later we were still waiting to see a doctor. The three other kids there had been waiting even longer. One toddler was bleeding from multiple facial lacerations. He'd been there for three hours since his assessment. There were no doctors to be seen.

After three hours I talked to the five or six support staff, who were very helpful, did everything they could when it was needed, but mainly had to stand around chatting waiting for a doctor to arrive. They suggested, now it was after midnight, that it might be quicker to go to to the out of hours emergency GP service down the corridor. So we did. Another spacious room with comfy chairs, a dispensary with a pharmacist, a receptionist and a nurse. There were also three security guards, us and one other patient. All ten of us spent the next hour trying to avoid eye contact. The pharmacist and receptionist looked at their PC screens. The security guards messed about with their walkie-talkies and played with their mobiles. I had a Kit Kat. My daughter slept.

Then a GP appeared. She asked my daughter what she'd eaten, how she felt, a few other questions and then said she must have fainted and we should go home. We did.

The next day was Sunday. My daughter was fine all day. Her friend came round and at about 7 pm she asked could she walk her friend to the end of the road. Half an hour later we got a call from her friend saying my daughter was unconscious in an ambulance on the way to hospital.

Now please re-read paras two and three. Assessed efficiently by dozens of paramedics, nurses and administrators, then a three hour wait for any sign of a doctor. This time they admitted her and asked us to wait for a doctor to see her. Two hours later one came. She said they'd do some tests, but she was certain they weren't fits, "just a teenage girl fainting" and to go home and come back in the morning.

I did. Monday now. What a different place hospitals are now. Gleaming shops, flower stalls, restaurants, employing lots and lots of people. Impressive.

I saw a different doctor who said all tests looked OK and it wasn't unusual for teenage girls to faint and she should put her head between her legs if it happened again. I questioned wether being unconscious for 30 minutes and twitching constituted 'fainting', to be told oh yes, quite normal.

I took her home. Tuesday now. Sarah was fine all day. At 6pm... You know don't you? Groundhog day. She was admitted again. My wife went to collect her again and was told NOT TO BRING HER IF IT HAPPENS AGAIN SHE'S JUST FAINTING.

On Wednesday night she had two huge fits in my arms. The first lasted 30 minutes. Her head, body and limbs were twitching uncontrollably. Her eyes were rolled back in her head. I had to put my fingers in her mouth so she bit me instead of her tongue. She came round. 20 minutes later she had another, but more violent and lasting about 40 minutes.

We'd been told not to take her to hospital so we just put her to bed with her mum.

Today it's Thursday. We got her a GP appointment. Within 5 minutes he said it was quite obviously an epileptic episode and she should be on medication. The hospital doctors would have been fine for her to go mountain climbing or open sea swimming.

I'm typing this on Thursday evening at 7.45pm. My daughter has had another fit, has come round now and is at Warrington Hospital waiting for a doctor to appear.

So, why do I think the Health Service is broken beyond repair?

1. It is now a job creation scheme not a health service. It's prime purpose is to massage the unemployment figures. This makes sense in many ways and I certainly don't begrudge many fine people a well-earned job. But be honest about it and don't pretend there's any link between the number of people employed and the standard of patient care.

2. Doctors in this country are simply not very good any more. I'm really not sure why this is, but I intend to find out. I have several doctors as friends. They are great people and I love their company, but I wouldn't have any more faith in them than the doctors whose 'skills' I've recently experienced. Sorry.

3. The NHS cares more about not being sued or suffering bad media coverage than saving lives. Hence the ratio of administration to medics.

I haven't got any easy solutions, but I know the NHS isn't it. It's broken.

Still waiting.