One NHS family

THREE years after the NHS was born a proud teenager donned her first starched cap and uniform and began training as a State Registered Nurse

She qualified in 1954 and this week I found her medals and an old newspaper cutting from the Horton General Hosptial prize-giving.

And Gloria, my mum, is pictured standing beside Matron, beaming.

The hospital boss, Dr HC Jennings, had just reminded the new nurses about their vocation.

“Nurses have to have compassion, forebearance, toleration and all the things that make up the word charity,” he said.

“They must also have love for the human being who is suffering.”

Community

My late mum certainly had that. And she’d have loved the party at the Horton on Thursday where staff, past and present, celebrated the NHS’S 70th birthday and their own “hospital family”.

Because a small local hospital like the Horton – it has 236 beds and is in Banbury, Oxfordshire – can still foster a sense of community. Especially if you’re a Bletchly. For I’ve just realised what a huge part it has played in my family’s life.

Mum trained at the Horton before marrying, having my brother Mark and I in the maternity unit, and returning to work there.

I had tonsil, appendix and wrist ops in the HGH and Mark was treated for concussion. He trained in pathology in the Horton labs before marrying Heather – a Horton nurse. Their two sons were born there and the accident-prone lads were frequent A&E visitors. My dad, Tony, died at the hospital and, in 1990 after a long battle with cancer, Mum did too – cared for by her colleagues.

Now there’s a bench outside the nursing home dedicated in her memory.

The 70-year landmark sparked an outpouring of gratitude and pride in our NHS.

And it rightly prompted calls for a radical rethink on caring for a larger, older, fatter population.

Polls show most of us would pay more tax if it was ring-fenced and I believe those who can afford it should also pay to see their GP.

So a cross-party Royal Commission on NHS funding would be a great 70th birthday prezzie.

But I’m irritated by commentators who claim we wrongly treat our NHS like a religion, deifying doctors and nurses. They tell us we cannot LOVE such a flawed institution.

We don’t. We love its people. The thousands of staff, like my mum, who dedicate their lives to showing compassion, forebearance, tolerance and charity.

And whose love for the human being who is suffering makes us all feel part of the NHS family.