THE shock of realising I'd virtually severed my left index finger last December quite literally took my breath away yet, now, after an intensive three-hour operation to re-attach it, plus several weeks of healing time, I feel compelled to talk about it non-stop.

Or rather, to voice my admiration for the NHS Scotland staff who have helped me through my ordeal.

There were two female paramedics who, on hearing our screeching arrival at Glasgow's Western Infirmary A&E, immediately recognised my distress and ran me straight through to the emergency doctors. Nurses soothed me and gave me a blissful morphine shot. I was also grateful for a swift and frank assessment of the injury and the doctor's magical powers of persuasion when I could not bring myself to look at my temporarily-restitched digit. I could not have asked for a more understanding orthopaedic consultant. And the West of Scotland's top hand surgeon happened to be in on his day off that fateful Sunday afternoon.

An agonising, but mercifully short, wait for a slot in the scheduled operation list at Gartnavel Hospital next day gave me time to look around and realise how frequently such unbidden crises visit other people. And that has got me thinking. Those who say they resent contributing towards a health service they never use, and carp about how its resources are squandered on those who bring ill-health upon themselves, really should stop and think again.

No matter how carefully we look after our own health, the sad fact of life is that accidents will happen, violence will be visited on the innocent, and illness or disease will defy even the most rigorous diet and exercise routine. And when there's an emergency to deal with, Scotland's NHS unflinchingly steps up to the plate. I hthis truism when, a few weeks ago, a close family member in his sixties, a Munro bagger who had seldom previously sought medical attention, suddenly needed an appendectomy. When his body's finely tuned engine broke down, the well-oiled NHS system kicked in and took over, no questions asked.

My finger has required treatment at two different hospitals and has involved the emergency, orthopaedic, surgical, anaesthetic, radiographic, orthotic, outpatient and physiotherapy departments. Yet what has struck me is a tangible sense of unity and cohesion. On all levels, the practitioners I've been fortunate enough to encounter know each other by their first names and my meticulously updated case notes have always been presented on time - and my GP was fully up to speed within hours.

I shudder to think what might have happened were the NHS to be privatised, as critics fear will be the case in England. Health Secretary Andrew Lansley's Health and Social Care Bill, in for a bumpy ride as it goes through the report stage in the House of Lords this week, makes priorities of the promotion of market forces and competition in the English NHS. The proposals seem predicated on Tory shibboleths and, if implemented, would greatly damage the ethos of the health service.

While I do agree we all need to take more responsibility for our own general health, I'd argue that achieving this is not the NHS's core remit. For all the patients who present with problems associated with conditions such as obesity, Type 2 diabetes, drug and alcohol abuse (many of whom seem to treat the their own health, and the NHS, with a perversely casual disdain), there must be as many again who find themselves forced to swallow their pride, ask for help and – even after a lifetime of payslip deductions to help fund it – are hugely grateful when it comes.

Late into the night, once my frightened relative had been assessed in A&E, the tight-knit team of staff then turned calmly towards a 16-year-old who'd ingested two bags of heroin at £25 a pop because she had "self-esteem issues". Not an eyelid was batted.

The truly democratic nature of our NHS is what makes it truly remarkable. In our hour of need we are all equal in its eyes. And that is the mark of a dignified nation.