I worry for our NHS. I want it to survive privatisation but sometimes I consider what it would be like to be the last person out of the last NHS hospital. Here’s what I think I would feel like.
The day the NHS died
Today we closed the doors on the last NHS hospital.
We sent off the patients
To the waiting taxis.
The ambulance drivers
Of this future bleakness.
We turned off the lights
In each of the bays,
We checked the o2 connectors
Were set to today
Because today we closed the doors
To all our patients,
We entrusted them to
The ‘private sector’,
To the money men and women,
The politicians and cronies,
The Telegraph writers,
The new owners
Of our trusted love.
Our best achievement.
The NHS,
Society’s proudest moment.
As nurses we cried
For the past and the future,
We remembered our patients,
Our proudest moments –
The hands we held,
And the hearts we fixed,
The curtains we drew…
The trauma and the kicks.
Because today we closed the doors
For the final time,
Our last breath failed
And we couldn’t revive
Our service, our workplace,
Our place of minor miracles,
Where everyone was equal
And where we battled to save you.
Our final plan failed,
Our NHS died.
The best drugs and medicines
Were lost in the lies.
We lost you to money,
To rumour, to apathy,
We tried to revive you
But it was all too pitiful.
So today we closed the doors
On standardisation,
On safety, equality,
And NHS family.
You will now be seen
By faceless scrubs.
If you have money
You’ll be seen in a room.
With a rug.
Because today we closed the doors
On your last NHS hospital,
Feel free to walk past
Or stand and consider …
The marches.
The shouting.
The banners.
The warnings.
The last breaths administered.
Failed and deluded,
Because it was too battered and broken
To survive it.
Today we wrapped up
Your finest achievement.
Your present to corporate.
Your final statement
To your children,
Your grandchildren,
Your friends,
And the public
And today’s handover reads –
For our final patient:
Rest peacefully NHS,
Our Bevan inheritance.
twitternurse 