Are you old enough to remember when you went through the weekly budget with a pencil, working out whether you could afford to go down to DER and rent a TV? Remember when carpets only covered the middle of the floor? When the launderette was a welcome relief from the burden of washing by hand; when you cooked one pot stews on the gas ring attached to your gas fire?

It went hand in hand with a time when it only took one wage to support a household, when there were no child care bills because that was your wife’s job, you neither needed nor owned a fridge because she went shopping every day – in between dropping her stockings off to be ‘invisibly repaired’ and taking your Mother into town on the tram.

Gone forever; carpets go to every corner of the room now, as does the heating, and as for the kitchen – it has become a ‘life style’ choice, furnished with cleaning ladies and au pairs to look after the kids – for you are both at work now to pay for it all – you still can’t afford to buy the TV, but thank heavens for credit cards eh?

Something else has changed too – it is now considered ‘shocking’ that you should be expected to care for your elderly relative in hospital. Evidence that we ‘have become a third world nation’.

“As taxpayers, we sink millions of pounds a year into the NHS. Are we not entitled to expect that they will look after our elderly relatives in their hour of need?”

Here in France you are unlikely to see a French owned house that is not described as being ‘suitable for restoration’. If the carpet goes to the corners of the room, or there is accommodation in the attic, previously used to store apples and potatoes for winter, now turned into something suitable to impress your family and friends when they come to join you round the newly installed pool; if the photographs of the kitchen show B & Qs finest integral fridge and cooker hod – you can be sure it is English owned.

The French may be light years behind the English in terms of ‘house beautiful’, but they still cling to the idea that they are best suited to knowing which order Aunt Maude likes to be dressed in in the morning, how she likes her feet to be rubbed when she is feeling a bit ‘crook’.

They see the job of Doctors and Nurses as being one of applying the art of medicine, and even then, they like to supervise. Sit outside any consultant’s office and when a fresh name is called, watch as six or seven people, the aunts, the sisters, the grand children, all rise up and troop into the consultants room. Health is a family affair.

Visit any hospital ward and you will find that ‘visiting hours’ are round the clock – yes –even four in the morning if you wish. Beds are surrounded by entire families all watching the quiz show on TV, offering Auntie Maude little tit bits to tempt her appetite, massaging her feet (what is this French obsession with massaging feet?).

If the Doctor arrives to see Maude, or some nursing procedure is to be carried out, they are politely invited to step outside – to where there are comfortable armchairs provided for the hordes to sit, until the nursing business is over and the family returns to watch over Maude.

There is nothing ‘third world’ about it, as various articles have implied in the UK. It is simply that the French only expect their hospital service to provide medical care – they don’t assume that because they pay ‘millions into their health service’ that this means a licence to dump their relatives whilst they go out and earn the money for wall to wall carpets.

Somehow in the UK, the idea has grown up that the NHS is a permanent hotel facility for those temporarily in need of a fulltime Doctor. That ‘relatives’ are something to be excluded at all costs or only admitted between 3 and 5pm. That once something is ‘wrong’ with you in some way, you become the total responsibility of the state – I read the other day of a British postman who had super-glued his arms to the desk in protest at only getting unemployment pay and not full disability pay because he now had something relatively minor wrong with him. Outraged he was. He was ‘sick’ why wasn’t he being given his ‘ticket to ride’?

“People go to hospitals because they are too ill to look after themselves, and because their own close families lack the skills to do the job.”

What ‘skills’ do you need to help old Fred to the loo, to ensure that Maude gets to eat what she likes – and gets to eat it at all? Why would you assume that this is a specialist task, to be provided by the NHS?

‘Ah’, but the cry goes up, ‘we have this beautiful house with a massive mortgage and the carpet goes all the way to the corners of the room, and we both have to work all hours to afford it, have you seen the price of child care lately?’.

“Here we go, full speed ahead into the Third World. In the poor countries of Africa and Asia, people move into the bare, harsh hospitals where their sick relatives are being treated, bringing food and clean sheets and taking on much of their care.”

They don’t expect you to bring your own food and sheets in France and Spain – towels you provide, mind you, and they would consider it definitely third world if you were prevented from receiving the care and support of your family for 22 hours of the day. It is quite normal here to rent a cot for 2 Euros to sleep in so you can be on hand 24 hours a day.

I seem to remember that in Britain, MOT stations started painting a line on the floor behind which the anxious owners were required to wait as opposed to hovering beside the mechanic as he tended to their pride and joy – yet we think nothing of sending our relatives behind a closed door to be worked on, and resent being invited to step inside.

Billions have been wasted on a central storage system for patient notes, simply to avoid the French method of putting the patient in charge of his own notes, to be hand delivered to whichever Doctor needs them. Can’t Britons be trusted to look after their own x-rays?

Which system do you think is ‘third world’? Discuss.

Gloria Smudd
October 13, 2011 at 19:07

I have chatted on more than one occasion with our Landlady on the subject
of how each NHS (and indeed Private) patient has an absolute right to receive
copies of clinical letters written about him/her following an appointment with
a GP, a Consultant or a Consultant Surgeon. Very few people realise this and
hospitals and doctors’ surgeries can be very awkward if you ask for copies of
letter sent between clinical staff, but they shouldn’t be; please exercise
your right and make sure that you ask to be included in the ‘carbon copy’ list
for all your medical correspondence and if you have trouble, here’s a nice PDF
which puts the guidelines in fairly obvious terms – print it off if you have
any trouble. I believe it is exactly the same for your GP and any enormous
hospital you may have to attend. It’s your right to know and they shouldn’t
make a fuss.

http://www.dh.gov.uk/prod_consum_dh/groups/dh_digitalassets/@dh/@en/documents/digitalasset/dh_4086054.pdf

M Barnes October 11, 2011 at 10:59

I have the urge to throw some cold water over everyone’s heated rants about
how ‘terrible’ the NHS is and how ‘wonderful’ everyone else’s healthcare
system is…. and particularly the allusions to ‘third world’ service.

Lots of anecdotes quoted and extrapolated into general truth. My family’s
experience of the NHS has been mostly positive, with a few negatives quickly
fixed by our familial bolshiness, persistence, crafty diplomacy and presence.
The illnesses were/are serious and the nurses were/are thoroughly professional
and flexible. There has been the odd FU and we’ve had to have the odd word
with a ‘doogie howser doctor-type’. By and large I have been happy with my
version of the NHS – perhaps I live in a parallel britain?
I have also
lived in foreign climes where the poor would have given all they owned to have
access to the kind of care we affect to despise. I have friends who have
suffered terribly at the hands of the so-called fabulous care in Germany and
France and Spain.
Do my anecdotes have precedence over everyone else’s in
establishing a general truth? No. The NHS is pretty good and I am thankful for
it for the sake of others in my family. The NHS can be better, the standard of
care can be better (everywhere and always). It is NOT third world care…..
that’s self-indulgent nonsense from, I suspect, people who have never in their
pampered, protected lives actually seen Third World care. And certainly never
had to live their whole lives in it’s shadow.

john malpas October 11, 2011 at 00:46

where do you find these ‘families’? If you actually have children they are
likely to be spread all over the ccountry and full time employed.
Families
, helpful neighbours and friends tend to be romantic creations of popular
magazines.

Elena ‘andcart
October 11, 2011 at 06:46

Not were I live, they aren’t.

Delphius October
10, 2011 at 23:20

One of the flies in the ointment of families caring for loved ones is the
overbearing ogre of “certification”. No matter how simple it is to take auntie
to the loo, it will be frowned upon unless you’ve an NVQ in advanced toilet
escorting.

Mrs D is a professional carer and the amount of courses she has to go on
and certificates she has to hold onto to prove her attendance is
staggering.
Her annual certificate haul fills an a4 ring binder. Note
that’s just the certificates, not any notes associated with the courses.

Somewhere in the past 15 years we’ve gone from an open society to a closed
shop of certificate holders where people holding bits of paper and attending
courses measuring hours are deemed able to lord it over us.

Its yet another aspect of the de-personalisation if UK society, started way
back in the nineties by none other than Mr lack of personality himself, John
Major.

ivan October 11, 2011 at 00:38

Yes, the cult of the piece of paper which always leaves the question in
my mind – who said those certifying the qualifications are actually
qualified to do so? My experience says most of them aren’t.

John Leon October 10, 2011 at 22:07

When I flung my bike up the road at the Paul Armagnac circuit in Nogaro in
The Gers 4 years back I fractured my left shoulder blade, as I was not the
only one to have snogged the tarmac and the Pompiers were rather busy with
more seriously hurt persons than myself my wife drove me the 15 kliks to the
private clinic at Barcelone du Gers where I was immediately admitted, after
asking ‘Nogaro?’ with a wry smile, ( I was not the only guest from the circuit
that day ) and not only had an Xray but also at my request a scan as I was’nt
sure at my age whether I had damaged some internal organs, the staff thought
this unlikely but agreed to my request.
I then spent 4 nights before they
let me out because as I am diabetic they wanted to be sure that there would be
no complications. My girlfriend, now my wife slept in the little cot provided
and was a marval, rushing around organising all sorts of things. A few weeks
later back in the home town hospital they did it all again, scan and all, just
to make sure…… after spending several nights over the years when I lived in
the U.K. mainly for R.T.A.’s, the smiling staff, clean wards and genuine
friendliness of the French system makes very glad I got to live in France.

binao October 10, 2011 at 20:57

As a war baby brought up on Reading’s slightly foxed Whitley Estate, gas
but no electricity until the 1950s, I don’t want to go back to any of
that.

I visited my dying sister in hospital H.Vienne in 2004. What was striking
was no wards, and .that my sister was in an accessible hospital in a nearby
small town.

I didn’t have to drive 3/4 hr to a bewildering hospital complex with either
no parking available, or then have to pay about £8 every morning and every
afternoon if I could find a space, or worry about the ticket having run out,
or the parking warden.

Try visiting hospital daily at somewhere like Brighton, or Worthing.

Great if you live down the road or on a bus route

I also have a lot of sympathy with Robs comments, based on experience. The
trouble, those that haven’t experienced better are pathetically grateful for
the ‘service’ they get.

Elena ‘andcart
October 10, 2011 at 20:32

This is so sad. I still live very much in the old way. Mostly alone as my
family are not close by. I don’t have wall to wall carpets or central heating.
Not that I would want them. But I don’t feel abandoned. There are always
neighbours who would help me if I needed it. And I know this.
I work in
other people’s gardens during Summer, and I bed down with two quilts and a hot
water bottle during Winter.
In fact I have a very pleasant and stress free
life. I pay up front for everything I buy, and I owe no money to anyone. What
is so wrong about this? So why should I feel sad? Mainly because so many
people don’t know how to do this anymore.
No, I am never ill, so far, but I
certainly don’t worry about it, and I would much rather be ill here than in UK
if I have to be ill at all.

An English friend of mine had to see a French Consultant, and I went with
her. I wasn’t barred from holding her hand or being present during the
examination. And she was seen light years sooner than she would have been in
UK. Problem solved long before it became serious. which it could have
done.

So I am sad because Britain has lost itself in the process of demanding
it’s rights.

However, I could do with a slightly better Pension, like wot The French
get, but there is always The Restaurant de Coeur if the exchange rate gets
really rough. The Restaurant de Coeur gives out free food to people who are
struggling financially, and with never a hint of despisition. I know because I
relied on them for a couple of Winters before the advent of my Pension. I
might have to again one day, but they will deliver if I can’t go to fetch
it.
This is the sort of caring that goes on daily in France. It is all
around me.

Magwitch October
10, 2011 at 20:29

“yet we think nothing of sending our relatives behind a closed door to be
worked on, and resent being invited to step inside”

Yet, if you do offer to “step inside” you immediately get pulled up short
by that bureaucratic nonsense of “patient confidentiality”. I accompanied a
relative on a visit to the cardiologist because at the last consultation they
didn’t understand a word the consultant uttered: sadly a combination of a
‘heavy’ foreign accent and plenty of technical medical jargon. I wasn’t
allowed to “translate” nor ask questions nor see the notes or even the ECG.
They wouldn’t even let my relative have possession of the notes at the clinic
so that “they” showed me rather than the consultant or the nurses. In the end
we had to wait for the GP to receive the ‘results letter’ and have my relative
get the GP to translate and explain. If something potentially serious has
happened I feel that, with the patient’s permission, it should be perfectly
acceptable for the family to be involved.

As for the NHS “looking after our elderly relatives in their hour of need?”
this loosely translates to “care in the community has failed” or, more
usually, that there’s a bank holiday coming up and so hospitals become a
“granny dumping ground” whilst the rest of the family goes away.

microdave October 10, 2011 at 21:06

“That bureaucratic nonsense of “patient confidentiality””

That’s a joke. As both father and me have the same first initial, getting
letters addressed just to “D” Bloggs is nothing out of the ordinary. HOWEVER
getting two letters in the same week, BOTH from the local NHS, and BOTH
addressed to “D” Bloggs is not funny, or confidential. Particularly as one
was for him (the specialists appointment), and the other was for me (an
X-Ray appointment).

I complained, and the next (computer generated) letter to me was
obviously intercepted and put in a hand written envelope. But the following
week another letter arrived addressed to “D” Bloggs…

In the past I have even found prescriptions similarly poorly addressed.

“Patient Confidentiality” my arse!

microdave October 10, 2011 at 20:01

I can remember (just) the sentiments of the first 3 paragraphs…

As to the health care aspect, I think my father had some secret inkling
about the standards in UK hospitals mentioned by “Rob”. After 2 months of
inconclusive tests he was diagnosed with extensive cancer in early August. We
were given assurances that lots of treatment was available, and an appointment
with a specialist was made. However he went downhill very quickly, and died
only 10 days later. During this short period we were left to our own devices.
After 2 very stressful nights of more or less constant supervision by
ourselves, and a few rather heated phone calls, we did eventually get some
home help organised. But it seems that the NHS isn’t equipped for people to
die that quickly, or at the weekend.

On what turned out to be his last day, I spent some time moving bedroom
furniture around to make space for a loaned hospital bed (by which time he was
almost unconscious). However he must have still been aware of what was going
on – a few hours later he’d had enough, and passed away in his own bed with
all the family around him. We like to think that was a wise move on his
part…

In Memory October 10, 2011 at 19:39

Did you hear about Mr & Mrs Wallcarpet? They named their newborn son
Walter…

In memory of the late, great Roy Castle.

Joe Public October 10, 2011 at 19:13

Ah, but do any of those ‘internees’ look forward to a spell of
peace-and-solitude, away from some of their interfering relatives?

nonomad October 10, 2011 at 17:17

I agree with the majority of your post Anna ,and i have seen the French
system first hand and it does and has for years left the NHS” wanting” for
lack of a better word ,where i would question you is on the family trooping in
to the consultant or doctors rooms for what ever investigation or discussion
that is needed,the closest relative maybe or friend or whatever ,but the whole
tribe,this happens under the NHS now.
As long ago as fifteen years my wife
was seeing a consultant at the London Hospital in Whitechapel ,London as most
people would be aware this is a densely populated area ,mainly of immigrants
,the person before her was called and eight people ,children babies
,grandmother ,etc all trooped in ,when my wife was called in she asked the
consultant ,whom she had seen several times ,how did he cope with all that
,the reply was ,”with great difficulty” no one spoke much English and the
whole family did NOT help the consultation ,this remember is not France ,the
signs in this hospital are in numerous languages and interpretors are on hand
,i could go on but i think from this you get the gist of the problem,
here.

Rob October 10, 2011 at 14:36

I do agree with the sentiment of the article, but feel you have done a half
job. To leave the Hospitals and unions free of blame in how this came about is
very generous.

I would dearly love to have been able to stay by the bedide of several of
my much loved relatives as they passed over but have been prevented by
“visiting hours”. It seems strangely sadistic to prevent a dying person the
comfort of seeing their family in their final hours and yet this is
overlooked.

We soon learned to fight tooth and nail to get Grandad home as soon as
possible so he could die with those he loved.

I do expect some degree of care from proffesionals. Here are some examples
from my own experience where I found the nursing lacking any, well,
nursing:

I do expect nurses to help my elderly Nana to the toilet in the night
instead of shouting at her and leaving her in her own urine.

I do expect the nurses to keep the IV drip in her arm despite it meaning
that they had their sleep interupted by her needing help to visit the loo.

I do expect them to fit a catheter and not take her out of reach of her
emergency cord, which she kept pulling just because she didn’t like lying in
urine.

I do expect them to make sure she does drink water when she dehydrates due
to the lack of IV drip.

I do expect them to expect the dehydration to cause her to become delerious
and uncooperative.

I do expect them not to use this delerium in a very well practiced manner
to blame the patient for what was done due to Nana’s “attitude” and “language”
(I have never heard her blaspheme, let alone swear in my life).

I do expect them to clean up the mess they created and not leave it to the
next shift of (extremely proffessional and caring) nurses. It is always the
night shift workers who are working extra shifts in the private hospital the
next day to pay for the dishwashers, BMW X5′s and 2 week holidays to Cos
mentioned earlier.

I do expect them to care.

We cannot be there at night and only twice a day during vising hours. If we
had all day then the nurses wouldn’t need to feed or water them. It must be so
inconvenient for them.

JuliaM October
10, 2011 at 14:53

/applause for this comment

Lerxst October 10, 2011 at 21:20

Agree with this comment entirely!

And, while this next point may sound flippant, it isn’t meant that way.
There are certain members of my close family I wouldn’t want around me
anywhere near 24 hours a day, who I wouldn’t want being given the
responsibility of care. Not because they don’t care, but because in their
well-meaning way, they only need the tiniest excuse to try to mollycoddle as
it is. And who, if I were trapped into relying on them, would drive me to
pulling out the drips or disconnecting the ventilator myself.

Gallovidian
October 11, 2011 at 08:23

Hear, hear.

How we treat our elderly is a disgrace, and a sign of how degenerate we
have become.

Even third worlders aren’t that bad. At least to their own families.
However they are that bad to our elderly relatives who we give over to their
tender Phillippino or Nigerian care with a least a hint of suspicion as to
what might happen.

Shame on us.

Ex-Pat Alfie
October 10, 2011 at 14:24

Here in Spanish hospitals it is so very similar and the joy is that
everyone is included. As a widower with no family here I have been
hospitalised a number of times and each time I was “adopted” by the families
of the other two occupants the room. This has led to several enduring
friendships. Remarkably there is very little hospital acquired infection and
nobody dies from malnutrition or neglect. The staff always behave impeccably
and not just because there are so many critical eyes watching their every
move. And all on a budget a fraction of that of the NHS and with no reliance
on immigrant labour at any level..

Anna
Raccoon October 10, 2011 at 16:18

Ex-Pat Alfie,
I would second that comment – we live around 120 miles
from the hospital – thus precluding my husband being there all day and all
night. I too have been ‘adopted’ by other patients and their families – and
indeed by ‘volunteer visitors’ who tour the hospital for just this
reason.

Ed P October 10, 2011 at 17:25

Well, that’s brightened up my day – at last some good news about
Europe!

Now, how can the NHS be transformed into a decent & efficient
system like that in France or Spain?

Clue: don’t ask Cameron or Lansley.

between
the lines October 10, 2011 at 14:18

The British system is not third world – it’s fantasy world.

People have been encouraged to be far too greedy and self-centred and to
think of themselves as little princes and princesses. “Because you’re worth
it.”

This has made a minority very rich, and left most of the rest of us
gullible fools sitting in a pile of crap that we’ll be paying for over
generations.

Bob October 10, 2011 at 14:04

Remember it was we, or rather they, who voted for a government who would
“take care of them from the cradle to the grave”.
These parasites on the
rest of sane society are only demanding what was and is still being
promised.
Until some courageous politician calls it a day on the promises
of the Welfare State, it will only get worse until it bankrupts the
country.

I’m alright Bob
October 10, 2011 at 19:33

“These parasites on the rest of sane society are only demanding what was
and is still being promised.”

Here’s hoping you never fall victim to a chronic illness (unless you
already have your cyanide capsule to hand – wouldn’t want to ‘bankrupt the
country’ would you Bob?).

Donatus October
10, 2011 at 13:49

Here in Croatia you can also see the entire families in hospital corridors
on daily basis. Most of the families do care, some of them are even
overreacting and overprotective so you have to beg them to go away

Our problem is the lack of doctors so there is so much work and not much
time for the patients and their families. Most of the Croats are unsatisfied
with this situation, but my opinion from the inside is that it will get worse
before it gets better.

Some time ago I personally witnessed a scene when the whole family came for
a morning visit to a guy that died during the night. And nobody called them to
inform the family about the death of the patient. They entered the room, saw
that he was not in his bed, asked the personnel and… oops… It was very
unpleasant situation and I can only imagine how it was for those poor
people.

The Thought
Gang October 10, 2011 at 12:55

Curiously, the fashion now seems to be going towards spending prodigious
amounts of money to achieve a kitchen with that rustic aura of French
farmhouses. And a fair old penny can be spent ripping up those wall-to-wall
carpets in the hope of finding a nice wooden floor that we can dare to display
the borders of.

S’funny.. I know people who, in certain respects, aspire to be rich enough
to live more like their much poorer parents and grandparents did.

WitteringWitney
October 10, 2011 at 12:32

Ye Gods, Anna, do I remember DER….! I also remember my aunt cooking on a
coke fired stove; her old washing boiler, washboard, mangle, pegging out the
washing and by the evening having it all ironed.

Happy days………

Anna
Raccoon October 10, 2011 at 12:34

I was washing in a tin bath and using a mangle as recently as five years
ago – Mr G always, but always, gets round to doing the kitchen last!

Woman on
a Raft October 10, 2011 at
20:26

Heck of a beauty regime but there’s nothing like a mangle for
cellulite.

ivan October 11, 2011 at 00:27

Ah, the monday morning filling the wash boiler with buckets of rain water
from the tank behind the wash house and lighting the fire under it then
trying to make it boil faster, as well as using the same boiler with a
perforated metal plate in it before Christmas to cook the Christmas
puds.

Indeed those were the days.

Andrew Duffin
October 11, 2011 at 11:07

You had a tank behind the wash house?

You were lucky!

We had to fill ours from t’canal.

Etc.

microdave October 10, 2011 at 12:26

“I seem to remember that in Britain, MOT stations started painting a line
on the floor behind which the anxious owners were required to wait as opposed
to hovering beside the mechanic as he tended to their pride and joy”

Fortunately I still know a friendly MOT station where this doesn’t apply
(at least, not to “regulars” like me!). They don’t try and find something
wrong for the sake of it, and know that I will fix any faults and bring it
straight back. And I get to have a better look underneath my car than I can do
at home.

Woodsy42 October
10, 2011 at 16:17

Me too. Almost the only purpose of the MOT for my old Minor and Herald is
that I get to see under their skirts and get the benefit of the garage
owner’s suggestions, and my own observations, as to where to direct
maintenance and what winter jobs to plan for.
The 46 year old Triumph
passed today!