Gone in 60 minutes. How the wonderful NHS terrified me, tested me and sent me away

I've been feeling pretty rough for the past ten days, the worst coughing of my life, but a lot of mucus and wet coughs, so there was no way it could be corona.

But, a nagging feeling that this might be a bit unusual, so yesterday I rang the 111 NHS phone line just to be reassured that no phlegm meant no corona.

I got through straight away and was told there was nothing to worry about, probably a chest infection that would need a doctor's prescription over the phone.

So, this morning I did that and was told the doctor would call me this afternoon to discuss the symptoms. No need to worry, I told myself. Quick chat, pick up the prescription in a couple of days.

The doctor rang and then the world turned upside-down. A wet cough does not mean NO corona and it was imperative that he see me at once and to get in my car.

The doctor told me on the phone that there would be two options. The first was that after doing some tests in the car, I would either receive a prescription or I would be taken directly to hospital.

Fuck.

I was told to drive my car to the only one of three local surgeries still open and to leave the car in the car park and not get out. 

I would then be sent a text message with a number to call, then a protected doctor would come out to my car to test my symptoms.

I did as instructed, spoke to the surgery, was told to stay in my car at all times and to 'expect a Martian' when the doctor came out to the car.

Suddenly, I realise I'm nearly 59, I have Chron's and have had asthma since childhood. Would I need to leave the car there? Could I take my newspaper and books?

He arrived at the car suitably attired and protected, then with a finger-test measured my oxygen levels and heart rate. I was 98% oxygen and perfect beat, under 92% meant I would have had a problem. My temperature was also perfectly normal.

A bit of stethoscophing on my back and it appears it was a seasonal response to pollen or a bit of bronchitis, so I'm OK. It will heal itself, just need to use Ventolin every day. Phew.

All of this took less than an hour from start to finish. Gone in 60 minutes.

This is not a message of ego or lucky me or anything like that, it is a message of how fucking amazing and proactive the NHS is.

If this had gone the other way, I would have had a personal and safe meeting with a doctor dressed as a Martian and I would have been given a personal ambulance to take me to a prepared NHS hospital to with brave people to risk their lives to hopefully heal me.

I repeat.

If this had gone the other way, I would have had a personal and safe meeting with a doctor dressed as a Martian and I would have been given a personal ambulance to take me to a prepared NHS hospital with brave people to risk their lives to hopefully heal me.

I know this country has been divided in recent years and I have always had mixed feelings about England or the UK after having tried to get away from it for years. 

Give me the marmalade and Brentford FC, don't give me the Daily Mail and the bigot from the Rose and Crown etc.

Right now, however, I'm really lucky to be in this land and, fellow countrypeople, so are you.

The NHS and all your people, one of the world's five biggest employers with 1.3 million, you are an utter miracle of nature and I love you.

But after 12 days without a drink to boost my immune system, I'm going to have a couple of glasses of red wine tonight. No prizes for who I'm going to be raising them to.