Introduction

Introduction

I’m very proud to share with you Dear NHS: 100 Stories to Say Thank You. In the pages that follow, 109 well-known people recount their personal experiences of the health service. Yeah, about that. It’s not a typo. One hundred and nine. Asking people to be involved was a bit like posting out invites to a wedding: you send a few too many because you assume there’ll be a bunch of people who can’t make it. Well, practically everyone said yes and we’d already announced the title.1

This is slightly embarrassing because my role as editor involved two simple tasks – assembling 100 stories and writing 500 words of introduction (I went over on that one too). I didn’t even have to edit out spelling mistakes – the publishers did that for me.2

Unlike when my wedding proved more popular than expected, however, I couldn’t just shove an extra table in the corner of the marquee for the least important guests. (Apologies to any of my family who read this.) My first thought was to play bouncer in a shit nightclub and do one-in-one-out, but that felt slightly unfair. Then I realised that if I could count both Hairy Bikers as one entry, I could attempt to persuade you that there’s a pop group comprised of Ian Rankin, Emma Watson, Trevor McDonald, Lorraine Kelly, Joanna Lumley, Johnny Vegas and Malala.3 Instead, I approached it as I would a 4 a.m. kebab and just crammed the lot in. The fact that so many people said yes is simply testament to the love we all rightly have for the NHS: a love we inherit from our parents and which burns brighter with every hospital appointment. Whoever we are, however famous, we’ve all been touched by the health service and we all want to say thank you. Now more so than ever.

The stories in this book aren’t just testimonials; they are memories relived, secrets shared; the comedies and tragedies of everyday life that we all recognise. They’re by turns funny and heartbreaking, uplifting and moving, and all deeply personal and utterly heartfelt. They were also a stark reminder to me that they never teach you at medical school what to say when you see a famous patient. Is it more professional to pretend you don’t recognise them or to gush that you simply loved them in that film?

In my first year as a doctor, I found myself checking over a singer (A-list) who was on tour in this country and had a funny turn with no identifiable cause whatsoever, save for the enormous quantity of drugs he had just consumed (A-class). When I asked his occupation, he just raised an eyebrow at me that said, ‘You know who I am.’4 I still slightly regret not having my stethoscope signed. Anyway, as I read the star-studded submissions to this book, I couldn’t help but put myself in the doctor’s shoes and wonder what the hell I’d say as I, for example, extracted a hoover attachment from within Sue Perkins or deflated Louis Theroux’s swollen testicle.5

It means a lot that you’ve bought a copy of this book. I’m so grateful to you. As well as saying thank you in one hundred(ish) separate ways, Dear NHS also says thank you in a very practical way, by raising money for NHS Charities Together and The Lullaby Trust. Now that Captain Tom has set the fundraising bar fairly high, you might need to buy a few more copies, to be honest.

I’m also hugely grateful to every single contributor for their generosity – not only in giving up time to write their chapters but for opening up so honestly about often deeply personal and painful matters.

But most of all, I’m grateful beyond words to the NHS. To all the doctors and nurses and midwives and paramedics and pharmacists and physios and OTs and ODPs and optometrists and carers and speech therapists and radiographers and cleaners and social workers and dieticians and health visitors and admin teams and district nurses and porters and podiatrists and managers and kitchen staff and healthcare assistants and ward clerks and biomedical scientists: thank you. The NHS is our single greatest achievement as a country, and the NHS is you. The 1.5 million people who go above and beyond the call of duty every single day. The ones who give us hope and make sure there’s a tomorrow. 1.5 million people for whom the extra mile is the standard distance. Selflessly, generously putting others before yourselves. You’ve been there for me so many times, you’ve saved the lives of many people I love and you’ve done the same for every single person reading this book. This is our way of saying thank you.

Adam Kay

1 I’ll probably tell you the people who said no if you buy me a drink.

2 Incidentally, the group of people who made the most spelling mistakes were the professional writers. Absolute shambles.

3 Tell me you wouldn’t buy a ticket?

4 It’ll cost you three drinks minimum to get this person’s name.

5 Spoiler alert, sorry.

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