Happy Birthday, NHS.
Thank you for being there for us in the darkest of times; accident, injury, illness and death. For also sharing in the best of times; the all clears, the births, the recovery.
Thank you for the buttery toast you gave to a little girl whose world had just crashed down her ears.
Thank you for the banter of the paramedics who made the worst 18th birthday a girl could wish for a little bit more bearable.
Thanks for the physio and for the physiotherapists who were just too darn nice for me to hate. Physio was the worst.
Thank you for the words of encouragement. The support I needed to get back on my feet (literally and emotionally). The counselling. The firm talking tos. The discretion.
You’re not perfect and we’re partially to blame. We should reflect on how use you respectfully and fairly. To not litter your A&Es with drunkards on a Saturday night. To take ownership of our lifestyle choices. To not take what we don’t need. To not bite the hand that feeds us.
But thank you, for your tirelessness, your devotion and your dedication.
We are all very grateful.