Martin’s story:

Several years ago we found my Mother, then in her mid-eighties, collapsed in the bath and covered in blood: somehow she had burst a varicose vein in her leg and was bleeding badly. It was breakfast time on Christmas Day. An ambulance was with us within a very few minutes, and I went with her to a sepulchral A&E. Despite the very skeletal staffing, she was immediately assessed and her wound dressed, she was put on a drip, reassured and comforted. Even though it was Christmas Day a consultant examined her, chatted with her, swapped tales of varicose veins, urged her to have them operated on, and made an arrangement for her to attend the appropriate clinic early in the New Year. Anxious grandsons were able to pop into the hospital to keep tabs on their Granny’s progress. Within four hours she had revived enough for us to get her home in time for a postponed Christmas lunch before dozing the rest of the day away.

The professional efficiency of the A&E staff, and their kindness to a frail old lady, impressed us all very considerably. The fact that the Whittington is pretty near was most reassuring, since it meant that she was taken to A&E very quickly, that the family were able to keep a close eye on her progress, and that it was easy to get her back home. Having A&E facilities much further away, around the much-clogged North Circular or the far side of Hampstead Heath, would have made an event like my Mother’s accident much more difficult to handle – and the additional journey time would certainly have caused an even greater loss of blood (and thus made her condition harder and more expensive to treat).