Say what you will about the British healthcare system, can there be any doubt that Weatherfield General Hospital is a veritable miracle factory?
Consider the long list of patients who have been at death's door in the Coronation Street Wing of the venerable healthcare facility. Punters like Kevin Webster (crushed by the weight of his massive
The latest casualty was Stella. Run over by a runaway car and rushed to hospital where the superb medical staff made their patented bleak announcement to the family punters pacing around the waiting room: "She's suffered bleeding. She's in surgery now. That's all I can say except that she may be in a vegetative coma for many, many episodes or she could snap out of it in time for a late-night snack at the chippie. It could go either way."
Once hooked up to the ventilator, there is a golden opportunity for a friend, family member or even foe (remember Roy's visit to Tony Gordon who was apparently at death's door but then made a miraculous recovery?) to whisper an intimate monologue into the ear of the comatose patient.
Then, before you can say "National Health Service", the deathly-ill patient is up and around and shouting the odds. No after effects, no pesky out-patient appointments and no drug prescriptions. Oh sure, sometimes they throw a cane at you as you're leaving (it gave Peter Barlow something to lean on while he was calling Leanne a hooker at the front of the church), but that's about it.
Just look at Stella walking into the Rovers, having some soup and a cup of tea and graciously un-barring Frank 'the vole' Foster. She'll have a short kip on the sofa and be right as rain. Thank you, Weatherfield General Hospital.