Lest we forget

This simple but oh so effective statue stands in memoriam at the entrance to the Victoria Hospital in Blackpool. Most people bustled past, smokers loitered, but we paused for a moment and gave our silent thanks. 

My Grandfather, who served in WWII, passed away in this hospital. Now my uncle, born in the last year of that war, has hit the bottom of the chemotherapy curve, and we pause in limbo waiting and hoping that his body will begin to fight back and rebuild his shattered system.

We spent a goodly while chittering and chattering, trying to maintain a calm semblance of normality despite the storm of this reality. We could even wheel T down to the foyer for a change of scene and a smoothie, but all too soon he needed to go back to his little room and be hooked up to more intravenous medication. 
The level of care that both my relatives have received here has been exceptional. Just like the care my Nan received 400miles away in the East, as was the care I received 400 miles away to the South, the same as the care B is now receiving in Scotland. 
I've visited NHS facilities in the four corners of the UK. Some have been flagships, some have been stately and some have been beleaguered. But in all of them have been caring staff giving their all, going the extra mile, looking close to breaking. 

A single forlorn soldier with poppies at his feet stands to remind us of those who fought for a better world. The NHS embodies that world; care that meets the needs of everyone, that is given for free and is based on your need not your ability to pay.
I've said before and I'll say it again I'm sure, the NHS is our nations finest achievement, something worth fighting for.