Laura and I arrived to find a packed A&E (ER for my American friends).
Wherever we looked, there were dozens of people in wheelchairs, folks hunched forward with a sick pan on their laps, doctors darting in all directions, and even one idiot trying to smoke weed.
But most frightening of all was the 42-inch TV on the wall.
It read:
"Current waiting time to be seen by a doctor:
5 hours and 31 minutes"
I looked at Laura and said there's no way in hell Liam will last that long. By this time, his eyes were heavy, and you could fry an egg on his head with how hot he got.
As an aside, many countries praise our National Health Service (NHS), but sadly, they are praising a ghost, as in recent decades, the service has been on its knees, with no fault of its own. It's severely understaffed, underfunded, and overused by citizens AND "health tourists" as we’re supposed to call them.
I call them thieves.
Anyway, I somehow found a chair free for Laura, and then the agonising wait to be triaged began, which should have happened in minutes.
But this is England, and this is a financially starved institution.
So 20 minutes went by, and nothing.
Then another thirty, and again… nada.
Meanwhile, Liam drowsed in and out of consciousness, not taking in any fluids, and was deteriorating fast, so I did what any other concerned parent would do.
I went up to reception and told her my son was in a bad way.
Before the lady asked for his name, a doctor called out, "Liam Watson."
Ah, finally!
We sped over to the doctor, gave her all of Liam’s details, and she immediately took his temperature, for which the machine bleeped three times.
The lady’s brows rose faster than any brow I had seen rise in a while.
"What is it?" we asked.
"He’s reading 39.4 degrees," she replied (that's 102 degrees Fahrenheit to those too righteous to use Celsius).
Within 5-10 minutes, we had gone from anxiously waiting in a packed waiting area to sitting in a ward with doctors taking all of Liam's vitals. Quite the sobering experience, let me tell you.
Although I played down my worry in yesterday's email, in truth, I was anything but.
His situation worsened dramatically over the past few days, and yesterday was the day we seriously thought we might be in a spot of bother.
Fortunately, we were in the right place. We just hoped at the right time.
We stayed in that ward under careful observation for a solid six to seven hours. I cannot begin to tell you what they pumped into the lad, but it was a lot, and I sure as hell mourn all the eardrums that bled in response.
But, thankfully, there is a happy ending to this story.
Deep into the night, we were discharged with several boxes of medication to temper the viral fever, and I can confidently report that, for the first time in days, Master Liam's temperature is back to normal.
Hallelujah!
Happy we are. Grateful, too.
Especially as many of the same faces we saw when we arrived were still sitting in the crammed waiting area and staring at the screen that now stated — get ready for it — there was an 8-hour wait time to be seen by a doctor.
Shocking.
Yet despite all of the NHS's ills, it still has some good people working tirelessly in there… for now.
Anyway, if somehow you find yourself still reading this rather long email, I’d like to remind you that you can get 25% off my paperbacks when they are launched.
Warning: This won't last forever.
All you have to do is leave a review for The Divided Region (assuming you’ve read and enjoyed the instalments) and provide a screenshot or link as proof, then I’ll forward you the special coupon.
If you purchased any books of the series on Amazon or another retailer (I won’t judge you), you can leave a review — not a rating — here:
https://books2read.com/dividedregionexiled
If, however, you purchased directly at my store, go here:
https://djjwatsonstore.com/TDR-Bundle-Review
DJJW