This isn’t just a teabag – it may not even be a particularly special teabag (although David tells me it is) – but what it represents is something monumentally huge for us just now!!
It represents the kindness and the dedication of a particular nurse on the Cardiology ward of the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital where, for nine days earlier this month (3rd - 11th), David was an unexpected ‘guest’!!

His third (and possibly worst to date) heart attack began whilst out on a run (!!!), some 13 years after his last one – safe to say it caught us both by surprise but once he was in the hands of the professionals (beginning with a delightful paramedic crew, one of whom - in the midst of taking David’s vitals - looked up and said ‘ooh, you have alpacas’) we both heaved huge sighs of relief. And right up until the day he was discharged, David (and myself) felt nothing but admiration and gratitude for the care he received and the professionalism shown.

‘Everyone’ nowadays has an opinion of the NHS: good, bad, indifferent, hostile, friendly, anger-driven, intensely grateful, informed, uninformed. Ours had erred towards a ‘mainly doing ok in difficult circumstances’ opinion but really and truly, amid the lack of money; the sometimes gross failures by ‘a few’; high staff sickness; the political machinations caused by Brexit and immigration policies… the majority of individuals working within our National Health Advice are undoubtedly doing the very best they can.

And none more so than Alison who had obviously overheard David ask, each time he was offered it, for ‘weak’ tea: the sort where the teabag just ‘waves’ at the hot water. One morning she came over with a box. ‘Would you like a Lemon and Ginger?’ she asked.
Hooked up to a plethora of wires; having to ask to go to the loo; missing home, the dogs, me (hopefully); sleep deprived and at times a little scared, David felt as though he had been offered the cure to life itself.
And this from a nurse who was actually at the end of her night shift, having had to deal with a very disturbed and mentally ill patient whose nighttime wanderings and often incoherent rantings, had been emotionally very challenging (and also quite distressing for other staff and patients).

His stay in hospital was an experience of contrasts: in response to the difficulties caused by the above patient he was asked, on several occasions, did he feel safe? And then a mere hour or so later, he would find himself laughing with a nurse about something entirely trivial. One minute all would be calm and sleepy and then a machine would beep and within seconds, staff would appear from all directions, curtains would be drawn and a perfectly coordinated team would, between them, resolve whatever had just gone wrong.
Hospital wards are funny places. People who have no real business being together, are, in a hospital situation, thrown together. And emotions will run high: patients will be scared, confused, vulnerable, angry, anxious. Some will have quite severe mental health issues. Some will have angry and distressed relatives. On both the Acute Medical Unit and the Cardiology Ward, David witnessed staff being physically assaulted and shouted at. We read an article recently where a doctor stated that around 40% of hospital patients have mental health problems. And it’s hard when patients need to be on psychiatric wards but have other medical issues that need resolving first and so spend time on wards where their emotional needs cannot be met as well as they should. And yet, in the midst of all this turmoil, that one teabag made such a difference.

So, to all the ‘Alisons’ out there – thank you, thank you, thank you!!
Saving David’s life was one thing, being acknowledged as an individual and shown nothing but kindness and understanding was quite another.
If you know anyone that works in the NHS, please do share this post with them if you feel they would enjoy reading it – there must be many ‘Alisons’ out there who will hopefully recognise themselves here and we’d both love them to know how much they are appreciated!!