One of our reporters wound up in hospital this weekend. Taken ill in the middle of the night he was whisked away to his local A&E where his painful problem was diagnosed within minutes. Given the necessary pain-killing injection he was taken up to a ward where he received close attention to monitor his condition. The next morning he was taken to inpatients imaging where the diagnosis was confirmed - gaul stones. So, how did he rate his experience? "Bloody marvelous" was his conclusion. "I thought I was dying," he told the editor. "The Hospital was spotless, the staff were professional, friendly and the attention I received was second-to-none. I doubt I would have received better treatment if I was a millionaire paying BUPA throught the nose for the same service. Next to me was a young man in his twenties on his third liver transplant. I might add he'd never had a drink in his life and his first transplant had occured when he was 9. And what was his conclusion? If it wasn't for the NHS he'd be dead. I mentioned this to an acquaintence when I returned home and she was dismissive. 'I waited so long for an appointment that in the end I went private,' she told me. Her problem? She had a slight problem with blurring vision in one eye. Her life was not under threat, in fact her condition was merely inconvenient, but she has joined the ranks of those who think that because she doesn't get five star service for a minor complaint then the NHS should be privatised - forgetting completely the vital work they do saving people's lives. I hope she gets gaul stones and wakes up one night thinking she might die. Perhaps Richard Branson will come and collect her."
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