You know I had to take my son for a blood test and scan this week and I was just so appalled at how much St George's had deteriorated.

I actually wrote a book in 1998 about my family’s experience of going into hospital over a period of 6 months – called ‘In Whose Hands’.

Just so many things went wrong that I couldn’t complain as I wouldn’t have known where to start, so I decided to write a book (well, small book).

I was told by politicians at the time that all the problems were the fault of the previous Conservative party; Labour having just recently come into power.

But now, if I compare the situation in 1998 to today, things have got so much worse – so who is to blame now I wonder? At least you could get to see a GP in 1998, or expect a home visit if necessary. At least you were not actually scared about being admitted to hospital – you might have had to take your own pillow, but you didn’t face the fear (or should I say certainty) of contracting some horrendous superbug!

When we went this week, we were 74 on the list for a blood test. Don’t worry, I said, let us sort out the scan and come back. The waiting room for children was awful; really scruffy, small and cramped and no receptionist. We waited ages until someone sorted our ‘forms’ out. Then it seemed that everyone else was called, except us.

When I finally managed to find someone to help, it seemed we couldn’t have the scan done today after all, despite what we were told when we checked in, but needed to make an appointment. But we couldn’t make an appointment as all the computers were down! So, we returned to the blood test only to find we were bottom of the list again. This time at least we were 24 and not 74. Having spent 2 hours in the hospital already, I was adamant we stayed to get something done. The numbers flew from 4 to 11 in just a few minutes, and gradually we moved up to 21. Our hopes were raised. But then we had to wait almost another hour it seemed to move just 4 numbers as everyone had gone to lunch!



The place was packed, the environment was really shabby and grubby and it seemed nobody around us could speak English. I honestly felt as though we were in a Third World country, except I expect the facilities there are better. It was like walking round an old workhouse, not a hospital.



I felt really sorry for the staff having to work in those conditions. Morale must be at an all time low. I would agree the NHS is indeed in crisis. I could ask where the money is being spent, but I have a pretty good idea – on those bxxxxy glossy pamphlets! Somebody somewhere is making a mint I am sure.

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