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How my doctor father taught me to love the NHS

Writer Lolita Chakrabarti and her father Dr Chakrabarti - Andrew Crowley
Writer Lolita Chakrabarti and her father Dr Chakrabarti - Andrew Crowley
NHS at 70: Article banner
NHS at 70: Article banner

I was born into the NHS in a very real way, in 1969. My dad had been working in England’s hospitals for nine years, ever since he emigrated from India at the age of 26. As a child, I remember him darting off, day and night, to treat patients.

When I was 14, he brought me to hospital to watch him perform surgery. At 26, I broke my leg and experienced first-hand the complete nature of its care. The institution has formed a big part of my life and never been very far away. 

As the NHS celebrates its 70th anniversary, my Dad is an 84-year-old orthopaedic surgeon, who still works part-time in a fracture clinic. I, meanwhile, have curated an event for the Old Vic theatre called The Greatest Wealth, which marks each of the NHS’s eight decades with a specially commissioned monologue.

In my early memories, Dad was always wearing a white coat with a bleep. He would get calls in the middle of the night and rush off to Selly Oak Hospital in Birmingham, where he was an orthopaedic surgeon.

After a day’s – or night’s – work, he would sometimes come home with bottles of whisky and boxes of chocolates, which his patients gave him as a thank you. He was known to his department as “Mr Chak”, because it was easier to pronounce than Mr Chakrabarti. 

 Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti - Credit:  Andrew Crowley
Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti Credit: Andrew Crowley

In the evenings, he and I would sit in the living room together. I’d lie on the floor watching the TV, while he sat, cross-legged next to me with his copy of Gray’s Anatomy. With his index finger, he traced lines on my leg, marking the incisions he would make on a patient. He said it was a good way to refresh his memory ahead of the operation.  

At 14, Dad invited me to Selly Oak to watch him at work. We scrubbed up and entered theatre, where he performed one foot and two hip operations, as well as a lumber puncture. The experience was formative, but didn’t make me want to be a doctor myself. Dad says he’s glad I follow him into medicine

Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti - Credit: Andrew Crowley
Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti Credit: Andrew Crowley

I may have grown up to be an actor and playwright, but that experience in Dad’s operating theatre has been lodged with me ever since. I also remember one of his patients in particular, the man whose hand was crushed entirely by machinery and left almost all of the bones of his hand broken. 

My latest project echoes this: a monologue for The Greatest Wealth series, performed by Art Malik, in which a hip replacement operation is described from the perspective of the surgeon. Dad never discussed cases at the time, so for this I had to interview him.

For Dad, the NHS is incomparable. He comes from Calcutta, India, a country where there is extreme poverty and people often struggle to get access to medicine. This is always in the back of his mind when he thinks about what the NHS can achieve.

Dr Chakrabarti in theatre in India circa 1982 - Credit: Andrew Crowley
Dr Chakrabarti in theatre in India circa 1982 Credit: Andrew Crowley

He has noticed that things have changed in the service, and some of them not necessarily for the better. One thing he always says is that in the 1960s, if a doctor had a problem, they would visit the hospital secretary, who would help them sort it out. By the 70s and 80s, hospitals had so many different managers that he was never sure who to turn to. 

But, that said, he also lauds the technological developments the institution has undergone. When he started, for example, there were no MRI scans. Doctors had to rely on their own examinations for clinical diagnosis. Now, they can look inside the human body and confirm their prognosis.

 Dr Chakrabarti (right) circa 1963 in Rugby - Credit: Andrew Crowley
Dr Chakrabarti (right) circa 1963 in Rugby Credit: Andrew Crowley

When they moved to England in 1960, it was never my parents’ plan to stay forever. As a young, newly qualified doctor, Dad knew working in England could advance his career in India. He answered a call from the NHS, asking for doctors to move to the UK, and came with my Mum, his brother and some college friends.

Every decade or so, he thinks about returning to India. In fact, he has moved back on a couple of occasions – for an 18-month spell when I was 10, and a year when I was 19. But every time, the NHS has pulled him back. He missed England’s hospitals, the care they offer, and his personal network of friends and family, most of whom are doctors.  

Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti   - Credit:  Andrew Crowley
Lolita Chakrabarti and Dr Chakrabarti Credit: Andrew Crowley

I don’t know if he will ever retire. Every now and then, he considers it, but, Mr Chak is really good at what he does and, after so many years, it would be difficult to file away all of that experience.

As the NHS turns 70, we need to make sure we nurture and sustain it. We’d be lost without it – and so would my Dad. 

• As told to Cara McGoogan. The Greatest Wealth, a series of monologues about the NHS, performed by a cast including Lolita Chakrabarti, Meera Syal and David Threlfall, is at London’s Old Vic (0844 871 7628, oldvictheatre.com) tonight and Friday. For more about the NHS’s 70th anniversary, visit telegraph.co.uk/nhs70