Stanley Tucci

Stanley Tucci

A few years after my first wife passed away, I married a Brit and ended up in London with my three children. Needless to say, there were many adjustments to be made: the all too well-known driving on the left side of the road issue in a car that had a ‘bonnet’ and a ‘boot’ instead of a ‘hood’ and a ‘trunk’. This was only the beginning of the language disparity. I didn’t know what a ‘rasher of bacon’ or a ‘banger’ was, nor did I know what it meant when someone was being ‘shirty’. I was clueless as to the definition of a ‘skip’ or a ‘tip’, or that when I was wearing a ‘sweater and sneakers’ I was actually wearing a ‘jumper and trainers’. Having lived in NYC for many years, I most certainly wasn’t used to encountering cab drivers who were polite and actually knew where they were going. And, to be completely honest, I didn’t know what a ‘willy’ was. Don’t worry, I know now. My wife explained it to me. And now we have two kids of our own.

But the aspect of the UK that took me the longest amount of time to become accustomed to – and even comprehend – was the fact that I or any family member could go to our local surgery and be treated without anyone asking for payment, either upon entering or exiting, and that no bill for services rendered would ever arrive in the post. When one of my older children cut her heel rather severely while bicycling, she was treated immediately with great care and attention, continuously until she was healed. When our youngest son twisted his arm while we were visiting friends out of town, the NHS doctors at the small hospital we took him to were not only professional but extraordinarily gentle with him and reassuring to the two panicked parents, namely me and my wife. (For the record, it was her fault.) Again, I was amazed that no one asked for an insurance card, a credit card or any form of remuneration. I still expected a bill to arrive in the post weeks later. Needless to say, one never did. That diligence, professionalism and kindness are what I have experienced over and over again when any of us have been treated by the NHS.

I am not saying that these qualities don’t exist in healthcare professionals in other countries. They do. I have had extraordinary doctors and nurses in America over the years. But my inability to reconcile how this system works is exactly because I am from America, a country that in 2008 had over 44 million people uninsured. Thanks to Obama’s Affordable Care Act, that number has dropped to about 28 million but is steadily increasing again as conservatives insidiously roll back the laws that made the positive difference in the first place because they see them as socialistic.

I explain all this so that people might understand how, no matter how inefficient and frustrating dealing with the NHS might be from time to time, it is one of the most extraordinary healthcare systems in the world. Can it be improved? Yes. But from what I can discern, any troubles it may have stem from a lack of proper and consistent funding. Spending my time and being a taxpayer in both the US and the UK, I’ve come to understand how precious and vital the NHS is. Not only for the physical and psychological health of every UK citizen, but for the economic health of the nation as a whole. The healthier a nation is, the more productive it is, the safer it is and the happier it is.

The people on the ground in the NHS who are working day in and day out during a crisis such as we are facing now are risking their lives to save countless others. Any politician who thinks of privatising the NHS should have their head and heart examined, and they should pay out of their own pocket to do so. Sadly, it may well take this crisis to make them understand that the doctors, nurses and staff of the NHS are national treasures as much as the institution itself. May it have a long and healthy life.

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