Writing About Me Freelance Writing Books Draklia Ernest Johnson

The National Health Service Tue 12th July 05 The NHS is a wonderful thing. It ensures that nobody in Britain has to pay for healthcare. It also, unfortunately, ensures that nobody in Britain GETS healthcare. One of my best friends recently went to a hospital, following a suspected broken arm. After arriving at the hospital, she encountered a new NHS initiative, to provide a social group for people with similar interests (or at least: injuries), enabling them to hang out and meet new people. It does this by ensuring that they remain on the same waiting room bench for about four years. At which point, they are allowed to leave the bench, and move on to the next waiting room. Many people have met on these benches, who have gone on to fall in love – get married, and even have children – without at any point leaving the waiting room. These NHS waiting lists are often the targets of satire. And with some justification: people needing important surgery often have to wait on lists upwards of two years long before receiving their appointment, at which point they can go down to the hospital and try and wait out the remaining two years. Having survived the queue, my friend was finally seen by an NHS Doctor. In an effort to improve flexibility and standards of education, this Doctor was multi-lingual. None of these languages were English. Having explained, with some difficulty, the situation (that she thought she had broken her arm) the Doctor conducted an x-ray, and, after careful analysis, he was able to confirm that my friend did indeed have a bone in her arm. He also uncovered considerable evidence that my friend might have more than one arm, which might, or might not, both contain bones. Having established this, suggestions were made about discovering the condition of the said bone. Careful analysis was conducted. This consists of attacking the patient with a surgical hammer. Feedback from the patient on which areas hurt allowed the Doctor to discover –surprisingly- that it always hurts when you hit someone with a bloody hammer. This inspection went on. My friend nervously awaited the diagnosis, which was centred around two main points: 1) She had hurt her arm. 2) The arm, which by this stage was approximately the size of a small village, was slightly swollen. A further shock revelation was delivered when she was told that her agonising arm injury, despite being severely swollen, might cause her some discomfort. She was not entirely satisfied with what she’d learnt, which could have been learnt approximately 7 hours and 43 minutes quicker using this following diagnose-it-yourself chart: Do you have severe arm pain? If so – you may have hurt your arm. Is your arm swollen to the size of a small car? If so – your arm may be (wait for it) swollen. (Possibly considerably swollen!) Not entirely satisfied, my friend was invited to return the following day to learn more about her injury. When she returns, she will remember to bring camping gear, have someone water the plants for her, and have all mail forwarded to the NHS waiting rooms. (Where, I am pleased to announce, Amy and Mark Johnson have just become happily married.) - Sam Smith By Sam Smith.