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Healthy Service - Wednesday 13/07/11

Around midnight last night I received a call from a very tearful and lonely Emma. She missed us and desperately wanted my company. My heart felt her pain. The times I have spent in hospital have shown me how cruel a lonely night can be when you are unable to sleep. What really got me was when Emm sobbed that she didn't want me to come down in case I wasn't allowed in.
Good God. What rubbish. It hurt not only to hear it, but to wonder at the number of people who suffer because of 'visiting hours'.
I assured Emma that my entry was not in question. The NHS is exactly that. A health service. I shall order, and they shall serve.
I explained the plan to Frances who happily curled up in bed with the netbook watching Bambi II. Then I marched down to Emma rehearsing responses to a myriad of possible scenarios and challenges.
I knew it would be best to go for the jugular. And I was right.
I buzzed the intercom, a surprised voice replied. I said my name and that I was there as I understood Emma was in a state of distress. There were no questions. The doors parted.
As I walked down the corridor a nurse was hot footing it to Emma's room and was mortified to see the truth of my words.
A very sad and weeping Emma was crumpled over the baby in the lamplight. The nurse apologised and blurted she had no idea. I told her not to worry, all would be well.
A good time later the nurse returned to a calmer room and tried to coax me home. I had no intention of staying through the night, but I firmly made it clear I would not be leaving until Emma was happy and my presence no longer required. She got the message and let us be.
When I left I took the time to thank the nurse and made it clear she was not at fault. A good deal later (she was rather chatty) I slowly walked home to bed and a solidly sleeping Frances...
Today, baby and mother have come home and we begin the rest of our lives.
No one, bar the gods themselves, will ever separate us.

M Jones

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