Getting old - the NHS!

Being of a certain age now (born in 1939) I am beginning to need to make use of the National Health Service a bit more often than in the past but I do feel guilty that I'm taking a place away from someone else who needs it more.

Then I think back to 1947/48, just after the austerity of the second world war, when a free health service was announced.  I can remember my parents being excited and, I guess, relieved at the time at the thought that all the health needs of a diminished nation, who had been on a depleted diet for 6 or 7 years would be taken care of for an individual's lifetime.

 

There wasn't a thought that we should protect ourselves for the future by taking out health insurance in addition to paying a tax via our national insurance contributions to cover our future health needs. That was how things were at the time so I must stop feeling guilty if I am concerned about a health issue and just use the facility that was given to me, aged 8/9.

 

Things have changed so much since 1948.  With a hugely increased population in the country and the NHS struggling to cope with the changing health issues of that population, health insurance will become the norm for the younger generation. 

 

I was probably about 5 or 6 in this photo .... and, yes, I did have blonde curls!

 

 

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How things have changed!

 On the occasion of my youngest daughter's 60 birthday, I was thinking back to when she was born, as she asked me what time this happened.

It was in Bournemouth, where I and eldest daughter had been living in my parent's flat, with husband on flying training courses.  We were hoping the baby would arrive on 14 February, which was my grandmother's birthday but it wasn't to be.  

However, on the evening of 18 February 1965, I started to get the familiar pains.  Husband was actually there at the time so around 10.30 pm he whisked me off to a nursing home where I was due to give birth.  I know things have changed phenomenally since the 1960's and at the time we thought nothing of the fact that as soon as I entered the ward, he was told to go home!

I was then left to myself, being told by the midwife to "get some sleep".  I knew that this wasn't going to happen and I rang the bell a few times for the midwife!  Her comment was "you can't keep doing this as we all need some sleep".  However, when she had a look, she realised that the birth was imminent and my second daughter arrived just before midnight.  She was whipped away fairly quickly and, on asking the midwife to ring my husband/parents to let them know that they had a new daughter/grandaughter, the midwife said she wouldn't do that as they would be sleeping!  I knew damned well they wouldn't!  She refused to call them until 7.30 am and they, of course, thought I'd been in labour all that time!  It turned out that the midwife was pregnant herself, so I hope her birth experience was more sympathetic than mine.

This particular nursing home didn't allow the babies to be near their mothers and were in a nursery of cribs, only brought to the mothers at feeding time so it was a strange experience.  I didn't really manage to bond with my baby until we got home, which was after a week!

Thank goodness things have changed for the better as it was a very Victorian experience.