Image source, Nirmala Logeswaran

“I was only 19 when I came to UK from Sri Lanka to train as a nurse in 1974.

“My uncle met me at the airport. He was a doctor at Benenden Chest Hospital in Kent, where I was going to be working.

“Discipline was very important at Benenden. We were only allowed to call each other ‘nurse’. I was Nurse Samuel, which was my maiden name.

“At Christmas we’d have a party with patients and staff and at the one in 1975 I performed an Indian dance. The patients were so ill and couldn’t go anywhere, so showing them a bit of culture cheered them up a bit.

“For the last 35 years I’ve worked on the renal unit at St Helier Hospital in Surrey. I think of the patients as family because I see them for years.

“I’ve met so many people but one man stands out.

“He was on dialysis, external and because it’s a small unit we got to know each other very well.

“We’d tease each other all the time. I was pregnant in 1984 and he’d ask if I’d swallowed something rather large.

“He had a kidney transplant, got better and left the unit.

“Years later, his wife told me he’d got cancer and was very unwell. Doctors couldn’t do anything for him and I started praying quietly for him and his family.

“He was transferred to a hospice and I visited him to say goodbye. I was very sad.

“Another year later, his wife rang me to tell me he’d recovered and had returned home.

“I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him again when he came to the renal unit for a blood test and clinic appointment.

“I cried with relief and the teasing and joking started again.”

Image source, Tina McGuff

“In the 1980s and 1990s I was very sick with anorexia.

“When I was 16 I weighed just four stone and my GP insisted I go into Ninewells Hospital in Dundee.

“I was so ill mentally that I had what I thought were quite ‘rational’ thoughts that the world would be a better place without me.

“Physically I was being forced to get better but it took my malnourished brain a while to catch up, and when I was 17 or 18, I tried to take my own life.

“This particularly upset the Italian ward sister on the acute psychiatric unit.

“From that day on, she would come over and sit with me whenever she came on shift.

“She always asked how I was and spoke to me with such a genuine interest in my life. This went on for years while I was there.

“The sister told me that I was a lovely person and would look back on these moments and begin to care about life.

“I developed a connection with this woman and I trusted her.

“She showed me such unconditional love and support and was never judgemental.

“It’s the unsung heroes like her that have kept people like me alive.

“I’ve done some amazing things in my life, like have four children and that would’ve never happened without her.”

Richard Crow was admitted to Stoke Mandeville Hospital after a motorcycle accident in 1977.

While he was in hospital learning how to use a wheelchair, Richard met Karen, a nursing auxiliary, who later became his wife.

Richard told the BBC what the NHS means to him.

Dr Harold Ellis joined the NHS as a doctor in the same month the health service was created.

The retired surgeon recalls how his pay doubled from one pound a week to two.

The 92-year-old wrote textbooks which are still used to train student doctors today.

Image source, Liz Earnshaw

Liz spent most of her career as a nurse practitioner at a GP surgery in Lichfield, Staffordshire. She retired in 2017.

"A nurse's workload is huge now and massively different to when I started.

"At one point in the later years I was seeing thirty or forty patients a day.

"I was frightened of making a mistake and that's one of the reasons why I retired.

"Nurses have always moaned, I don't suppose it was wonderful when I started in the 1970s either.

"I do think the difference today is the sheer number of people coming through the door.

"There just aren't enough GPs."

Image source, Rebecca Lawson

“I would like to say a huge thank you to the staff at Doncaster Women and Children's Hospital both on Maternity 2 and the Neonatal Unit.

“Our eldest daughter Shayla, who’s now 14, was born 10 weeks premature weighing just 2lb (1kg).

“The care that we both received was outstanding. The staff don't get a lot of recognition, especially the staff on the Neonatal unit.

“Our middle daughter Gracie, who is now 12, was born seven weeks premature. At the same time my husband had terminal cancer. The staff were incredibly supportive.

“I also had pre-eclampsia – which is why the first two were born prematurely. I was very close to death both times. The care I received was amazing.

“This year, my third daughter, with my new partner Dale, was also born ten weeks prematurely.

“If it wasn’t for the staff who have been absolutely fantastic, Fallon would not now be here at home 11 weeks later, healthy, happy and thriving.

“She’s had stomach problems and sepsis but has managed to bounce back marvellously thanks to their care.

“At the hospital, some of the same nurses from 14 years ago still remembered us!

“The holistic approach of the staff was second to none. I was in hospital for nine weeks all in all, either on the ward or back every single day for scans and monitoring.

“I got to know everyone, even down to the receptionist. My middle daughter always wants to talk to her.

“They have cared for my three girls and me 24/7 in intensive care, high dependency and special care units. The work they do is invaluable.”

"I was 19 when I was admitted to the National Spinal Injuries Centre at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. It was the late 70s and I’d been involved in a motorbike crash.

"The medical staff thought I’d only live until the age of 25 but thankfully I’m still alive today.

"As I got to grips with my wheelchair the occupational therapists taught me to bounce downstairs and pull wheelies.

"It looked like I was having fun but these are essential skills for navigating streets without any help.

"Stoke Mandeville was like a holiday camp in those days with just old wooden Nissen huts as wards.

"The weather was nice in the summer of 1977 and our beds were moved outside, so even if you were bed bound you could still get some sun. The staff would bring us drinks too.

"There used to be a bowls club where you could play indoor lawn bowls.

"There was also a bar. You could drink at the bar for hours before getting back into bed, often drunk.

"Once every three months there would be a party on the ward too. I had a mate who was a DJ and he came in once and gave us a free disco."

Image source, Ruth Paley

"Naburn was a sprawling old Victorian asylum in York, well hidden from everything. It was home to dozens of mentally ill men and women.

"We had some very odd staff as well. The nights could make me anxious if my colleagues decided to run around the basement tunnels banging and making weird noises.

"I can remember ward rounds where everyone, including the psychiatrist would be smoking. It was like holding a meeting in the snug of an old pub.

"Taking agitated patients into the back room for a cuppa and a fag was a strategy that really worked for me.

"Spending time away from the busy ward and talking to them was a powerful medicine.

"For patients, knowing someone cares is fundamental to them feeling safe when everything else seems to be spiralling out of control."

Image source, Anne Massey

“In the 70s if you were behind with your bills you got a red letter in the post and I was sent one for my electric bill.

“I thought ‘right, I’ve got to get a job’.

“I rang Kingston Hospital to see if they had any work and the lady said we’ve got a job that nobody wants because it’s a bit mucky.

“To me it couldn’t be any worse than cleaning a baby’s bottom.

“The job was something I never knew existed, as a bottle washer in a histopathology laboratory. Histopathology is the study human tissuesamples to help make a diagnosis, external.

"My role was to hand wash all of the specimen bottles once they’d been used to test for various conditions.

“The bottles looked like jam jars with screw lids. I’d empty whatever was inside, like part of an appendix or something, into an incinerator and then wash them up by hand. The lab had four shelves full of them.

“I went in for my interview on a Wednesday and they asked me to start on the Monday.

“It was 1978 and you were still paid weekly then in small brown envelopes. It wasn’t a job to me really, it was something I enjoyed doing. The money was just a bonus.

“After a while though I did go and see the secretary, who I’d ask about leave or overtime from, and asked for a different job title.

“She said why don’t we call you a ‘glassware technician’.”

Dennis Moss has worked for the Welsh Ambulance Service for more than four decades.

His family came to Wales from India in the 1960s and Dennis put up with racism "to be accepted" when he joined the National Health Service in 1976.

He was inspired to join the NHS after experiencing the Aberfan disaster while working for royal army medical core.

Having previously retired, the 70-year-old Dennis is back - working as an ambassador to encourage more people from black and minority ethnic backgrounds to join the service.

This is his NHS story.

Image source, Carole Hope

"I believe my mum was one of the first women to have what we now call an epidural , externalat Princess Mary Maternity Hospital in Newcastle in May 1957.

"My twin sister Patricia and I were the end result.

"Mum told me that she remembered a needle being put in her back when she was in labour. She said it was for pain relief.

"It was only years later that she realised it was an early version of an epidural.

"We were born on 28 May 1957.

"Patricia weighed 4lb 2oz and I weighed 3lb 12oz.”

Image source, Heather Nash

“I felt privileged to train at Barts, as it’s known. The teaching was excellent and served me well in my career.

“Barts gave me some lifelong friendships too, but the place had its quirks.

“There was a very hierarchical nursing structure. Everyone knew their place and there were unwritten rules.

"I remember night duty very well. When it was time for lights out, we read a prayer and said ‘goodnight everyone’ in a voice everyone could hear.

“We were taught not to make a sound. We’d whisper on shift and never woke anybody up. I even learnt to sneeze quietly.

“Eight years ago I was staying with my father-in-law in hospital and the noise had to be heard be believed. The nurses spoke at the top of their voices.

“In the 50s as a student nurse, I once made a small clatter when I put a metal kidney dish down, which we used for carrying toilet rolls.

“The night superintendent appeared from behind a curtain and said: “Nurse Connell, if matron was awake I would take you to her now. If you can't be quiet, you are only fit to work in Woolworths.”

“I was quite a shy person back then and I thought, “Oh no, not another black mark against my name.” Even the most respected sisters could be very rude and this wouldn’t be allowed today.

“There were so many rules on night shifts.

“We couldn’t wear cardigans because it wasn’t uniform and so when the fans were going on the wards we were freezing.

“Sitting down on shift wasn’t allowed because we always had to be doing something.

“First year nurses had to prepare tea, slice the bread and butter it.

“We were only allowed to take the butter out of the fridge 30 minutes before we needed it. The butter would always be hard. There were ways round this but you ran the risk of getting caught.

“The rules could be quite Victorian.”

A nurse and champion poet has penned a piece to the NHS as the service celebrates its 70th birthday.

Piers Harrison-Reid, 25, is an A&E nurse in Norwich and was Essex slam poet champion in 2012 - a form of poetry where people read their work without props, costumes or music in front of judges.

He was asked to write a poem about the NHS by BBC Look East and the result is this work, titled Love is for the Brave.

Image source, Paul Higbee

"I used to play rugby and during one match in about 1979, I had an altercation with someone who stamped on my back. A stud pierced the skin near the bottom of my back and left a wound.

"Six months later I was up a 17ft (5m) ladder when my legs gave way and I fell.

"I wasn’t badly injured but needed to understand what the problem was with my legs so I saw a consultant at the now closed Victoria Road Cottage Hospital in Romford, Essex.

“He surprised me when he gave me an ultimatum, saying: ‘Have an operation or you’ll be in a wheelchair within two years and you can kiss your rugby career goodbye.”

"He told me that hair had got into the open wound from the earlier rugby injury which had then healed over. The hair was still growing and was strangling the nerves around the coccyx at the bottom of my spine which is why my legs gave way. It’s called pilonidal sinus, external or ‘Jeep disease’.

"My consultant said he’d heard of this happening in World War Two. American soldiers were spending so long in jeeps that wounds would form; hair would fall in to the wound and heal over.

"I remember that I saw the consultant 10 days after falling off the ladder and having the operation a week later. You wouldn’t get offered treatment so quickly at a time that suits you these days."

Get Inspired
#GetInspired

From hockey matches, silent discos and even hula hooping, the NHS knows how important it is to keep its staff fit and healthy.

One of the objectives to mark the 70th birthday was to motivate NHS employees to look after themselves - here's what they've been doing.

Image source, NHS

Image source, Pat Davies

"My dad's GP surgery took up half of the ground floor to our house in Wales. He didn’t have a nurse or receptionist so my mum and I were the message takers. I started doing this from when I was about 10-years-old.

"When I was 12, in the early 60s, there was a smallpox outbreak in the valleys and my dad, mum, sister and I were all involved in the vaccination process.

"We once worked all weekend treating people because my dad had patients queuing 40 or 50 yards (36-45 m) down the street.

“My mum used to be a nurse so she disinfected the arms, my dad did the vaccinating, my sister who was eight or nine made the dressings and I put the dressings on.

"We were exhausted by the end of that weekend. Mum was particularly upset that she couldn’t cook the Sunday dinner for us.

"I think it was around that time I decided I wanted nothing to do with a career in medicine!"

What are your memories of the NHS?

To mark the 70th anniversary of the NHS we are sharing people's memories and stories of the health service from across the decades.

We'll be posting stories from patients and staff as they reflect on their time on wards, in hospitals or surgeries. We'll also be answering your questions about the service as it has evolved over the past 70 years.

If you have a story, picture or question you wish to share get in touch by emailing haveyoursay@bbc.co.uk.

Image source, Elaine Sihera

"I arrived in the UK from Jamaica in 1967 to train as a nurse at Kings Lynn General Hospital.

"Trying to settle into a new country and the hospital was bad enough without the racism I faced on the wards.

"I was working on the geriatric ward when Enoch Powell made his famous Rivers of Blood speech.

“Around this time I was spat at or told to go back to where I’d come from. Some patients said they didn’t want my black hands on them.

"The experience of the other black nurses I trained with was so bad that some of them ended up in mental hospitals for a while.

"We didn’t just experience racism from the patients either. It was always assumed that because we’d come from oversees we wouldn’t have any friends or relatives to see at weekends, so the white nurses had weekends off while we staffed the hospital.

"I was very excited to come to England and train as a nurse but the racism was so bad that I left after two years. I just couldn’t take it anymore. There was a pretty racist atmosphere in society back then.

"After qualifying as an intermediate nurse I left the NHS and went on to become an English teacher.

"I’ve no regrets and I’ve never looked back.

"As a diabetic I truly believe that if I lived in another country I’d be dead by now, what with all the tests and drugs I’ve needed. I’m so grateful for the care I’ve received from the NHS. I even met my ex-husband of 33 years while I was a nurse.

"It’s just a pity my experience of the NHS started so badly."

Image source, Valerie Muncer

"I’d spent three years living on a bed in a hospital ward at Tehidy Sanatorium in Cornwall because of TB and I remember one day a lady came to see me.

"She was wearing a white coat and holding a pair of shoes that had been specially made to help me to walk.

“’She said: “We’re going to get you standing”. It was all a bit out of the blue.

"This lady would start by holding me and then as I started to gain in confidence she’d just grip my dressing gown at the back.

"I was terrified that I’d fall because I’d not stood up for so long and I used to tremble in my bed at the thought of her coming to see me.

"She took a photo of the moment I stood for the first time and eventually I was walking around on just one crutch."