To cut a long story short, I lied through my teeth that I would get The Grumpy One to pick me up and she had no choice but to believe me. I then drove The Borg ten miles to my parents' house, plugged him into the mains and breathed a sigh of relief that my parenting skills were still there. I had to endure The Grumpy One driving me, 30 miles to an unnamed hospital in the middle of Cornwall. His driving was OK, I am just a hideously bad passenger. You can see where this is going can't you....
I found my way to the MAU, that's Medical Assessment Unit to you and I, accompanied by Hyacinth. The Grumpy One refused to enter the building on the grounds that they would try to keep him there. Very sensible if you ask me. It turns out that the MAU admit patients from GP referral's. I had no idea it existed. The place was a madhouse, there were Nurses running back and forth, Junior Doctors dropping paperwork and a lot of people sitting in chairs, laying in corridors, hooked up to oxygen masks.
I spent the long hours waiting, cracking inappropriate jokes, between painful breaths and trying to stop Hyacinth buying sandwiches and tea for the all of the nurses/doctors/dying patients. I sent Hyacinth home at this stage before she started cleaning things. I am still a little shocked by what I saw there. Over a 7 hour period I was examined in a corridor, given a blood test in an office where staff were eating sandwiches. The nurse sticking me had to kneel on a dirty, crumb strewn floor. She wore no gloves. I walked myself 3 miles to X-Ray in an attempt to get out of there sooner. Back to a corridor for an ECG, with no modesty blanket, my baps flashing at the world and a 'Healthcare Assistant' that didn't know one end of an ECG lead from the other. It's just as well I don't let these things bother me because I was one of the LUCKY ones....
Art by Karoleenka |
This is where I sat on a chair for 7 hours between sojourns to even dirtier places. As for my health? I'm fine. It was a false alarm. I won't complain about the nurses, they were bloody terrific in a horrible environment. But I do wonder what awaits me when I do get seriously ill, because like it or lump it that is just what will happen to the majority of us at some stage in our lives. Think about it and pray that you will be run over by a bus at the age of 96 having fulfilled your dreams and won the lottery. Oh and leave all your wordly goods to a Nurse! Normal service will be resumed in the next post.
Mrs Wook.