Our NHS heroes and heroines are inspirational; while we cower in our homes, moaning of boredom as the days ooze by, they subdue their fear every morning to care for us and save lives. They are on the “frontline” of the “war” which Boris Johnson has declared against the coronavirus, and, addressing the harrowing deaths of two young NHS nurses, Matt Hancock tells us that their sacrifice makes him “more determined than ever to push for victory”.

Yet make no mistake, this is not a war and NHS workers are not soldiers. No student goes to medical school to fight; they aspire to help people, not to forfeit their lives. Our NHS workers have undeniably handled this crisis with bravery and compassion, but that does not mean that they agreed to this.

Wartime rhetoric conveniently enables Boris Johnson to portray the coronavirus as an unpredictable and calculating enemy, with the deaths of NHS workers as inevitable collateral damage. As such, attention is deflected from the government’s deplorably slow response. They had months to prepare for the virus to reach the UK, and yet they didn’t invest in sufficient protective equipment or tests. In an almost farcical demonstration of the failure to protect NHS workers, doctors and nurses are treating patients wearing school science goggles and plastic bin liners. They are not being killed by a malicious wartime enemy, they are being killed by the government’s incompetent reaction to a situation that they should have anticipated. The Lancet’s editor, Richard Horton, scathed the government’s hypocrisy for clapping workers whose lives they had jeopardised by not providing appropriate PPE, because fundamentally, “[this] was preventable”.

This hypocrisy becomes shamefully explicit when we recognise that in 2017, both Boris Johnson and the Chancellor, Rishi Sunak, voted to eradicate the 1% pay-rise cap for NHS nurses. Unlike the realms of men who enlisted to fight in the world wars, our “frontline” workers have always been there, but they have been underfunded and neglected for years by policymakers. Boris Johnson’s military narrative would have us believe that NHS workers have suddenly “stepped up” to combat this crisis, but the reality is that he has only just begun to take cognisance of their importance.

Anybody who has read Adam Kaye’s humorous yet poignant diary, This is Going to Hurt, will know that this is not the first time that NHS workers have found themselves on the “frontline”, overworked and underpaid. It is a reality that they have endured through years of austerity, and yet since I was diagnosed with diabetes I have come across so many NHS heroes and heroines, who have treated me with nothing but kindness and patience. Let me give just a couple of examples. The doctor on duty the night I was diagnosed stayed more than three hours past the end of his shift to ensure that I was in a stable condition. The diabetic nurse whose care I am under stayed after the Day Unit had closed, just to reassure me when I was nervous about my first trip abroad since my diagnosis. These are people who genuinely care about their patients, and their warmth and understanding touches countless lives. It did not take a crisis to make them heroes.

It’s very possible that the NHS will save the life of you or somebody you love during this pandemic. So, remember the gratitude you felt as you stood on your doorstep clapping. Repay doctors and nurses by voting for a government that will provide them with enough funding to keep them safe. Repay them with the promise that never again will they have to risk their lives to save ours.