This week, I have mainly been in hospital. I'm pleased to say there's nothing wrong with me besides my usual difficulties, but someone I am very close to suffered an unpleasant accident last Sunday and as I write this on Friday afternoon, is still in hospital.
Mrs Warrior and I have been visiting every day, which has brought back the joys of commuting by train, but which has also allowed us to be reminded of the NHS and all the stories surrounding it.
My friend suffered the accident at about 6pm last Sunday. Within 20 minutes (and yes, I know there are people who would wish it to be two minutes), two paramedic ambulances were on the scene and four excellent paramedics were at work. Within an hour, my friend was in A&E and actually being dealt with.
Within three hours of the accident, she was transferred by ambulance to another, better-equipped, hospital at which consultants had judged that she could be properly dealt with.
For the next four days, a nurse was constantly at her bedside, consultants visited twice a day, the family were kept fully informed about the situation and her health was as closely monitored as possible.
On day five, she began the long, slow, process of physiotherapy (been there, done that!) in the caring company of two simply excellent physiotherapists who understood her situation and adjusted accordingly. Day Six is today; I haven't visited today because the strain and stress of commuting was beginning to tell - as one of my closest friends often says; "I am not coming to visit you in hospital if you wear yourself out....." - but I am hopeful of hearing of further improvement.
It's easy to knock the NHS - stories of five-hour waits in A&E make for simple clickbait journalism - but nothing Mrs Warrior and I have seen makes us think anything other than that the National Health Service at the frontline is staffed by anything other than talented, dedicated people who often work long hours in stressful situations and cope with them superbly.