KEY POINTS:
From time to time over the years I have had some harsh things to say about the public health service.
But after an unwelcome but unavoidable personal involvement with Auckland Health over much of the past 18 months, I now have nothing but admiration for the service it provides, at least in the area with which I am now all too familiar.
And since this is breast cancer awareness month, my wife has reluctantly allowed me to tell you about it, in the hope that her experience might bring some comfort and encouragement to other women similarly afflicted.
The saga began in April last year, soon after our 29th wedding anniversary, when my wife detected a lump in her left breast. She went to see her GP, who promptly sent her for a mammogram, which led to an ultrasound scan.
Yes, they said, there is a tumour there. Being unfamiliar with the public health service after 15 years of having private insurance, we paid for a biopsy to be done privately.
Yes, they said, the tumour was malignant - and from that point on we were in the hands of Auckland Health, and paid our first visit to the breast clinic at what was once Green Lane Hospital.
If there is a more caring, compassionate, competent and efficient health unit anywhere in the world, then I'd like to know about it. The men and women who staff it, from receptionists to physicians to surgeons, have my heartfelt gratitude and admiration.
At every stage of these frightening proceedings, busy people took all the time we needed to explain everything to us in detail and to lay out options for us to consider.
Appointments were rarely late and the invariably courteous and patient doctors, nurses and technicians never seemed to be in a hurry. They managed to make bearable that which really wasn't.
For a second biopsy revealed that the tumour was not just big and malignant but viciously so, and we concluded that the only safe course was a mastectomy and the removal of a number of lymph nodes from under one arm.
That operation was duly performed by surgeon Wayne Jones at Auckland City Hospital, where the theatre and ward staff lived right up to the standards set by the breast clinic.
Thus began a period of uncomfortable and often painful recovery but even that was assuaged by the diligent services of Green Lane breast care nurse Paula Whitfield and angels from the district nursing service who visited regularly to check on healing and change dressings and who were always on call.
After follow-up bone and liver scans, life gradually returned to normal, if there is such a thing, and we got on with it together, in a real sense strengthened by this difficult shared experience.
Then in May this year, when my wife went for her annual mammogram, the eagle-eyed mammographers spotted something not quite right in her remaining breast - and the nightmare began all over again.
Another ultrasound scan and another biopsy, this time uncomfortable and painful, revealed a small cluster of cancer cells which, they said, would have to be cut out. And once again everything moved with comforting efficiency.
But even the gentlemanliness and skill of the specialist who inserted the hookwire necessary to guide the surgeon could do little to minimise the discomfort of that operation.
The only good news was that this was a "carcinoma in situ", which had not developed far enough to have begun to spread its cancerous destruction.
Within days it was back to Auckland City Hospital where surgeon Alex Ng removed it. This time it was a relatively minor operation - if there is such a thing - and my wife was home again that afternoon.
As I had from Mr Jones after the previous year's major surgery, I received a cellphone call from Mr Ng as soon as he left the theatre to assure me that the operation had been successful and that my wife was safely recovering. They will never know how grateful I am for their consideration.
And that, we thought, is that. But no. Just to be sure, they said, there followed, just last month, four weeks of five days a week radiation treatment administered at the oncology clinic at Auckland City Hospital.
And there, too, the treatment given was made as easy as possible by the cheerfulness, compassion and competence of the doctors, nurses and technicians involved.
As a male I have only a vague understanding of the reality of the physical, mental and emotional trauma my wife has endured over the past 18 months.
But I know this: without the people (and the facilities) provided by Auckland Health, it could have been infinitely worse.
These folk are the salt of the earth.
