Today Shropshire health officials sat down to decide the fate of accident and emergency services at Shropshire’s two big hospitals. Here Ben Bentley reports on his own experiences of the current system.

A visit to A&E is never planned.

It’s the reason that casualty will never be on the itinerary of a tourist map and will never make a popular experience day, no matter how child-friendly they make it, or how they improve the car park and restaurant facilities.

But in life’s moments of need, when treatment of serious and sometimes life-threatening in-juries is required, the hospital A&E unit is a godsend and the only place to be.

On Saturday afternoon, after my six-year-old daughter sustained a serious injury to her toe, I end up spending nigh on three hours in casualty at the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital.

It was an eye-opening experience, particularly in light of concerning proposals to move some A&E services from Telford’s Princess Royal as part of possible downgrade plans.

With a never-ending conveyor belt of incoming casualties and medics working at full stretch, one wonders how, if such proposals come to fruition, the system will work. And what it will mean for patients like my daughter and the dozens of other people who arrive bleeding, bruised and broken.

The A&E experience is a waiting game and provides plenty of time to reflect on these issues as bosses sit down to discuss the fate of services at Shropshire’s two main hospitals.

I think about the words of one nurse who tells us she hopes that a change to A&E services won’t happen. The unit is packed as it is, and doctors tell us that if we don’t mind being treated in a small booth that would help them.

A note of positivity out of this visit: the staff in casualty are brilliant. Under stress and sometimes being shouted at, they smile through the battle of the day, dealing with the walking wounded like troopers. These are the people in which we invest our trust to make us better, and I cannot say how much I admire them.

The atmosphere in A&E is surprisingly convivial. There are even jokes among the blokes with broken arms, a giggle from the chap with gout and time to talk about football scores.

Jocular? A&E? Here we are, brought together by our accidents – resigned to waiting to be made better, helpless as little fluffy lambs waiting to hear whether we’ll live to see another day.

Others clearly reflect on their fate – perhaps somehow our injuries could have been avoided?

Certainly A&E is the best place to watch dramas unfold. That’s why they made a television programme about it and called it Casualty.

And sitting in the waiting room, part of the fun – if fun is the right word – is in watching this real-life Casualty and guessing what’s wrong with people, how they’ve done what they’ve done and how much they are hurting.

It’s the only way to while away the hours you spend waiting for doctors to see you.

In our moment of need, we often become our own priorities. You might think “I’m worse than them – why have they gone in first?”

Saturday afternoon is clearly the sports injuries time of week.

Rugby players come in – one who is bleeding from the mouth having bitten his tongue. He is followed by several football players, a man with a cut arm who from his outfit I guess is a carpenter. Babies, skateboarders and drunks, a cyclist with a grazed back. All of life is here, waiting to be patched up.

There are even complaints – yes, somehow some people find that now is the time to start throwing around words about compensation.

I hear a woman say: “If they don’t stitch my arm and it gets infected, I’ll sue, don’t you worry. I know why they are keeping us waiting, so it will heal and they won’t have to stitch it.”

Other people, on the surface of things, seem to have nothing whatsoever wrong with them. Seeing all these injuries at close quarters can make the layman a bit blasŽ.

At one point I assume one lad, who spends several hours on his laptop, is here because the wi-fi’s better. He probably thinks the same about me, who has no sign of injury whatsoever.

During our family visit to A&E, we just about duck under rush hour – later on Saturday night this room would almost certainly have been full of lads and lassies with punched noses and bloodied Armani T-shirts. The posters on the walls warning that violence will not be tolerated tell you that.

Ambulances come and go, bringing in life’s endless list of casualties. Hospital bosses tell us that between noon and 6pm on Saturday, a total of 65 people were seen at the Royal Shrewsbury’s A&E department, with a further 49 at Telford’s Princess Royal emergency department.

After several hours, and having seen several nurses and a doctor for assessment and treatment, we are free to go.

Like everyone else here, we hope we won’t be back soon. But we hope that, when the time comes, the service is the best we can possibly get.

• What are your experiences of accident and emergency departments in Telford or Shrewsbury? Call the newsdesk on 01952 242424 or e-mail us here.