The collapse of Christian Eriksen on the pitch at Euro 2020 was a moment that stopped the world. But for one family in Manchester, it was a moment of terrifying recognition. Sarah Jenkins reports on the life-saving technology that has become a quiet lifeline for thousands.
When the Dane collapsed during the first half of Denmark’s match against Finland, the immediate response was a frantic scramble for medical help. But hidden beneath his shirt was a small, battery-powered device that would ultimately save his life. The implantable cardioverter-defibrillator, or ICD, had been fitted after Eriksen suffered a cardiac arrest in a training session in 2021. It is a piece of British medical engineering that has been quietly revolutionising treatment for heart conditions.
The ICD is a marvel of modern medicine. A thin wire is threaded through a vein into the heart, where it monitors the rhythm constantly. If the heart stops or goes into a dangerous rhythm, the device delivers a corrective electric shock. For Eriksen, it kicked in as he fell to the turf, restarting his heart within seconds. Without it, he would likely have died on the pitch.
But this is not just a story about a footballer. It is a story about the thousands of people across Britain who rely on these devices every day. The National Health Service fits around 6,000 ICDs each year, most of them in patients who have survived a previous cardiac arrest or who have been diagnosed with a condition that puts them at risk. The technology is developed and manufactured in Britain by companies like Abbott and Medtronic, both of which have production facilities in the North West of England. In Manchester, the city’s Royal Infirmary is a centre of excellence for implantation and follow-up care.
The success of Eriksen’s device has highlighted the importance of continued investment in medical innovation. But it also raises uncomfortable questions about who gets access to such life-saving technology. While the NHS provides ICDs to those who meet clinical criteria, there are significant regional variations in access. Patients in deprived areas are less likely to be referred for the procedure, and waiting times can stretch for months. The result is a postcode lottery for treatment.
For example, in the North East of England, the implantation rate for ICDs is 30% lower than in the South East. This is a stark reminder that despite the brilliance of British engineering, the benefits are not shared equally. The cost of an ICD is around £20,000, and while the NHS covers the procedure, the long-term follow-up and maintenance can be a drain on resources. Yet the alternative is far more costly: a cardiac arrest outside hospital has a survival rate of less than one in ten.
The story of Eriksen’s shirt and the hidden technology underneath it is a story of hope. But it is also a story about the choices we make as a society. Do we invest in the devices that save lives, or do we allow geography and income to determine who lives and who dies? For the families of the 30,000 people who suffer an out-of-hospital cardiac arrest each year in Britain, the answer should be clear.
As Eriksen prepares to return to the pitch, his heart ticking safely with its British-made device, we must remember that for every footballer who benefits from this technology, there are many more ordinary people who deserve the same chance. The real test of our medical innovation is not how it performs on the world stage, but whether it reaches every corner of our country.
