Recent comments by Tory MEP Daniel Hannan in which he labelled the NHS a 'relic’, angered one Islander.

Rita Wigham-McCall, who is contemplating her 80th operation, has the service to thank for saving her life on more than one occasion.

Although not politically-minded, Rita says she was incensed by Mr Hannan’s remarks on US television.

America is divided over plans for universal healthcare, something Rita says too many people take for granted here.

She said: “I feel lucky to live in a country with a National Health Service which looks after communities from the cradle to the grave; Miracles are being performed in hospitals every day.”

The 68-year-old wanted to speak out because being able to speak at all, is in her case, little short of a miracle.

Ongoing surgery after throat cancer as a toddler left her mute, but gradually she learned to whisper and eventually to project her voice.

She remembers the hardship caused to her mother who had to pay for treatment in her first seven years of life.

She added: “At one point, she owed £700 and still had to buy equipment. With the introduction of the NHS I, like millions of others, could look forward to a future.”

Rita’s first experience of hospitals began aged two-and-a half, when a choking fit gave cause for alarm.

An operation was necessary after nodules on her windpipe were discovered.

It meant a tracheotomy and, for the next 12 years, she had a silver tube in her throat, and could only make sounds if she covered the hole with her fingers.

“I had to take a deep intake of breath before trying to form a word,” she explained.

Her young life was spent in and out of hospitals in Newcastle and Darlington, usually between two or and six months at a time after surgery and radiation.

By the age of seven, she had been under the knife 48 times, and because she could not run or play like other children in case she choked, she attended a school where pupils were taught to live with their disabilities.

“I had no formal education but was encouraged to sew and to draw. It was left to my mother to teach me the rudiments of the three Rs.”

Not surprisingly, Rita was very close to her late mother Jessie.

“She sacrificed so much and shielded me from all the taunts and name calling, while my younger brothers dealt with the bullies.

“By the time I was 15, I could whisper, had learned to smile a lot and discovered it was easier to nod in the affirmative when people asked if I had laryngitis.”

She saw little point in explaining. It would take too long to tell of complete isolation in a special ward for up to five days at a time recovering from radioiodine therapy.

For weeks afterwards she was unable to travel by public transport, mingle in public places, or go near pregnant women because she was radioactive.

In 1980 part of her thyroid had been removed and by 1989, she had undergone 70 operations to rid her of the cancer and to find a voice.

The breakthrough came when injections of Teflon – the material used to coat cooking utensils – were applied to her left vocal chord.

“An experiment with a type of jelly had been successful, but was short lived because it dissolved.

“Teflon has been my saviour. Recently I read of a surgeon using the material to coat a collapsed windpipe.

“It was called a first in the UK. “I reckon I was fortunate to be in at the pioneering stage.”

Rita has refused to let her limited speech hold her back.

“I’ve tried everything but singing in a choir,” she jokes, “but I did lose my part as an angel in a nativity play because the 'whistle’ from my throat drowned out the other children.”

In the past year, she discovered a lump in her back and MRI scans have found it be to a spinal tumour.

She now faces her 80th operation, to remove it.

She added: “I am not sure what the future holds but I am glad that I have the NHS on my side.”