An emotional finale with an added dose of human drama
Hospital (BBC Two) has quietly become one of the most absorbing documentary series on our screens. It discharged itself after an hour full of human drama and packing a hefty emotional punch. Here was life, death and everything in between.
Nine-year-old Abigail has cerebral palsy and was having selective dorsal rhizotomy (SDR) surgery. This space-age procedure severed part of her spinal cord to ease stiffness and correct muscle spasticity.
Teenager Thomas, who also had cerebral palsy, was desperate for the same operation to increase his independence and ease his constant pain. However, he failed to meet the requirements for NHS treatment. This bright, brave boy was sanguine about it, yet his understandable frustration bubbled to the surface.
Jaxon was 12 months old and had a slow-growing tumour in his pelvis that was pushing his organs aside and making it difficult to digest food. Surgery was available but the risks were high. At the opposite end of the age spectrum, Joan, 81, needed a replacement heart valve. Cardiologists agreed that this sprightly pensioner was the perfect candidate. The problem was she lived in Wales so wasn’t eligible.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the ward when Abigail walked, wobbly but unassisted, into her mother’s arms. Thomas’s family raised £29,000 to fund his operation and he was soon standing for the first time in years. In speech clearer than ever before, he said: “Everything about my life is improving.” Baby Jaxon went off for surgery at Great Ormond Street, beaming as mother Suzie sang to him and nurses waved him on his way. Joan’s doctors fought her corner and she got her new heart valve as a Christmas present.
This episode’s NHS hero was Alder Hey’s paediatric neurosurgeon Benedetta Pettorini, who carried out fiendishly complicated, high-pressure operations with a winning smile and was passionate about making trailblazing treatment available for all.
We’re currently blessed with an abundance of excellent medical series. While I’m partial to BBC One’s Ambulance, I defy anyone to begin an episode of the Channel 4 stalwart 24 Hours in A&E and not still be sitting transfixed by the time the end credits roll. Hospital is right up there. Let’s hope it is back soon.
There was a decent true crime documentary lurking inside The Death of Aimee Spencer (ITV) but it couldn’t quite fight its way out of the gratuitous celebrity packaging.
The film followed the investigation into the mysterious demise of the 27-year-old adult film star, who fell from the first-floor window of a flat in Brighton in 2016. Inside the flat, police found semi-clad Daniel Lewis, “off his t--s on drugs” as officers put it and claiming not to know what happened.
Part of ITV’S slightly lurid Crime & Punishment strand, the documentary delved deep into the case. We watched officers uncover Lewis’s dealing of class-a drugs. There was a vicarious frisson from eavesdropping on the detectives’ gallows humour and police lingo: “Soco” (scene of crime officer), “PWI” (possession with intent to supply), “wet amphet” (amphetamine sulphate paste).
Despite being the only witness, Lewis stonewalled questions with an infuriating “No comment”. Meanwhile, Spencer never regained consciousness, and eventually her distraught relatives agreed to turn off her life support machine. We left with the family frustrated at Lewis’s suspended sentence for drug offences. As a heartbroken Jean put it: “He’s out here free, we’re going home minus a daughter.” A closing cation informed us that a month ago, Lewis received a three-year prison term on appeal.
With its immersive camerawork (the bodycam footage from officers arriving at the scene was especially effective) and fly-on-the-wall feel, this documentary should have been a gritty procedural in the vein of BBC Two’s The Detectives. Instead, for some random reason, it was fronted by acid attack victim turned campaigner Katie Piper – an ubiquitous TV presence of late, popping up on Strictly Come Dancing and Famous & Fighting Crime.
Her sole input comprised nodding sympathetically in an interview, providing a clumsy expositional voice-over and walking towards the camera delivering hammy links. ITV should have had the confidence to let this sad story tell itself.