I suppose one cannot be critical of everything in the health services all the time. This is particularly so as my experience of dealing with its different strands over many years has essentially been positive.
You could not meet kinder and more concerned people than I found at all levels in the caring professions. The same was true of those who were trying to administer a chaotic system. The faults, in so far as they are now discoverable, lay elsewhere. But more of that later.
Looking back is easy; you may conveniently forget the bad times and indulge in nostalgic remembrance of the good. I shall, however, endeavour to recall my passage into medicine, and then surgery, reflect upon the past and then possibly speculate on future directions.
I was born in Booterstown, Co Dublin, in May 1937. I was a domiciliary birth - not uncommon then - and was delivered by Dr Joe Stuart, later president of the GAA and a friend of my parents. It was on the afternoon of Whit Sunday, a fact which led my mother to expect that I would acquire the gift of tongues. I did, to some extent, but the influence of my father may have been stronger. An army officer, he had served in the merchant marine in the first World War.
Although unaware at the time, it was probably my first exposure to the nature versus nurture argument which has dogged me to this day. I do not intend to inflict upon you the story of an essentially happy childhood but, looking back, it was a seminal time in the formation of the Ireland of today which our parents and grandparents' generations were then formulating and which, understandably but undeniably, shaped our attitudes.
In that TV-free age, reading was all important and to me has remained one of the great pleasures in life. We had certainly a less protected and freer lifestyle because many of the difficulties and problems of today were unheard of, indeed undreamt of. Sadly we know now that even then bad things were happening, things that only now are coming to light.
As I did not set out to write an autobiography in this article, I will move on to explain - if possible - how I arrived at my present position.
I was dispatched to school in Willow Park preparatory school and then through to Blackrock College. I can honestly say, throughout that passage, I was extremely happy and I owe a debt of gratitude to the priests and teachers of Blackrock that I can never repay.
Friendships formed in those years and later in university (where I discovered that some nice people existed who hadn't been to Blackrock) remain central to my life.
I had two great ambitions in Blackrock. Firstly, I wanted to be a great rugby player. Secondly, I wished to be able to sing. Sadly, despite strenuous endeavours, I only obtained mediocrity in both and had to settle for becoming a cardiac surgeon.
I did not, as noted earlier, come from a medical family, although one brother-in-law became professor of anatomy in UCD. My interest in doing medicine came about through my reading, coupled with my complete naivety. Axel Munthe and A.J. Cronin were amongst the writers who inspired me, with Richard Gordon for the lighter side of medicine. Thus I resolved to become a doctor.
In my final year in Blackrock, we were all individually summoned to our dean, Father Finucane. When my turn came he inquired of me what I wished to do in life. I explained and there was a long silence. Then he spoke: "Next to the church, I think that would be a reasonable thing to do. Have you ever considered the priesthood?" Another long silence, this time on my part as I wished I was elsewhere. Eventually I muttered some inanities about not having a vocation and was permitted to withdraw.
Leaving Certificate and Matriculation exams, which would decide if you could follow your chosen career, were ahead. The academic requirements then were much less stringent than today.
There was no points system. Was this a good thing or not? On balance I think it probably was good, as cramming was unnecessary and therefore more rounded individuals emerged. It must be conceded that medicine now is more technical and scientific and that higher basic standards may be required.
However, such high standards and points may obscure the vocation necessary for the profession and the attainment of the points may not per se guarantee a fulfilled career.
For us the requirement, along with our Leaving Cert and/or Matriculation (NUI), was that we had Latin, English, Mathematics and Irish.
Trinity College was not an option for many of us in that era of the closed mind. The Royal College of Surgeons existed, but sounded faintly exotic. For my classmates and I, our eyes were fixed on UCD.
Life, you know, is really a series of ladders: you climb one and become monarch of all you survey, then find yourself at the bottom rung of the next.
Thus I found myself, with great regret, leaving my safe haven in Blackrock and venturing out into the challenging and, I hoped, exciting world of the medical student. I was not to be disappointed.