Pride in our NHS

THE NHS saved my life. It didn’t re-start my heart after an attack, save me from a fit or spot a mass on my liver and stop it in time. It helped me through depression.

After I had my first child 13 years ago, something was not right. One evening, I decided I couldn’t cope and went downstairs to t ake some tablets. It seemed to me that it wasn’t me who was the problem but my daughter. She was in bed with us and I wanted to smother her: with her gone, my life would go back to normal.

At that moment, my husband woke up and I pretended to be asleep. The next day, I rang the surgery, desperate for help.

A doctor came straight away with a mental health doctor and I said I wanted my child adopted.

The doctor didn’t say no, just that I needed some rest and we would discuss it in the morning. He then left with all medication from the house and arranged for a community psychiatric nurse (CPN) to visit me. The