I don't know about you, but I spent a lot of the weekend in hospital. This time it was my mum's turn to be admitted, so I was merely the dutiful son who went visiting (and expressed gobsmacked adoration at how fast she appeared to be recovering). A dodgy knee joint was to blame, half of which has now been replaced by a pseudo-bionic implant (and which hurts like billy-o when you bend it, so I'm told). It's given me yet another opportunity to observe nursing staff and hospital facilities up close. And this time, on the other side of the financial fence.
My mum was admitted as an NHS patient, but she ended up in a private hospital. I'm not quite sure how this switching system works, but it seems that health service reforms now offer greater choice by external outsourcing. Waiting lists are kept down by funnelling off certain patients into private care, and NHS hospitals thereby absolve themselves of providing a sufficient level of services using their own facilities. My mum gets a new half-knee, the NHS "cures" another patient, and private healthcare shareholders rake in profits from their empty beds. Everybody wins, except perhaps the ghost of Clement Attlee who spins ever faster in his grave with every market-driven government health reform.
I recognised the end of town where the private hospital was located - it was a stone's throw from the regional NHS hospital where most of the private consultants have their day job. They spend most of their week operating on the general public in a government funded state-of-the-art operating theatre, and the fifth day up the road in a bijou cottage hospital raking in considerably meatier fees. Fortunately for them it's only a short drive inbetween the two, which makes it easy to keep an intermittent eye on all their patients and tell them how well they're doing. Nobody would sanction such split-site loyalty amongst, say, teachers or police officers, but for senior healthcare professionals it's now seemingly second nature.
I didn't recognise the atmosphere inside the private hospital. Everything seemed calm and relaxed, even down to the "security" (or lack of it) at the front reception desk. No terminal diseases here, no A&E, just nice routine surgical procedures that cure chronic conditions and improve lives. Long carpeted corridors with en-suite bedrooms off to either side - this was more like a hotel than a hospital. A walk-in shower, each, and personal telephones and televisions free from money-grabbing subscription fees. Even the meals came on china plates rather than plastic trays, covered by a clear lid rather than impenetrable clingwrap, and accompanied by proper salt and pepper pots rather than a couple of sachets of mass processed condiment. The service was everything the NHS ought to be, but can no longer afford.
One thing was no different, and that was the care and professionalism of the nursing staff. They ensured that my mum had as comfortable a stay as possible (except when they were deliberately bending her knee) and tended to her every need promptly and with a smile. Rather more of them spoke English than in the NHS hospital over the road, presumably because they'd not had their services contracted out to the lowest bidder. But they too worked stupid ridiculous shifts for not enough money, just like their public sector counterparts.
I'm delighted to have my mum back on both feet again, and pleased that her time in hospital was more pleasant than it might have been. There's nothing like recuperating with dignity in your own private space, and with the maddening witterings of others blocked out while you attempt to sleep overnight. But I'm not quite so comfortable that this was only possible by diverting NHS funding into the private sector. There's something very wrong with a National Health Service that can't treat its own, and is instead beholden to targets, deficits and extended choice networks. I know that "free" healthcare costs, but we'll all end up paying if going private ever becomes the defaultoption.
