At a recent GP appointment, I was seen by a lady doctor who was very thorough, particularly when she saw my blood pressure readings. My concern that prompted this appointment was related to my throat; I had mentioned others! She wired me up and the ECG print out prompted her to consult with a colleague. She returned, handed me the ECG printout sheet and advised me to go to A&E at my local hospital.
The taxi dropped me outside the ‘walk-in’ external door just before 3 pm and I booked into the department. “Take a seat” she said. I looked around the large waiting room, it was full. She should have said “Find a seat”!
Also “Take a seat” was inappropriate, as they were all bolted down to the floor. I guess it was to protect all in A&E on Saturday night melees!
I spotted an empty chair, they were all padded and covered in leather, or so I thought. I quickly realised that the padding had long since failed and the seat covering was plastic. I sat on the chair for 14 hours. I went there with one medical problem and left with another, a sore and tender one.
The staff were, as always, excellent at their tasks, polite and caring, but overwhelmed. Processed, in turn, some patients then moved on to another waiting room until a bed was available, others discharged. When, eventually, I was taken to a very small room to await the doctor’s conclusion, I passed patients lying on stretchers along the corridors brought in by ambulance crews. The environment was not conducive for such a situation.
As evening turned to night, those who went home were replaced by new arrivals, some worse for wear slumped in those fixed chairs, as the staff battled on. We received regular updates on our position in the queue, not that much changed. Late in the afternoon, we were informed that it had been a very busy day with 5 doctors on duty, but only 3 doctors would be working the night shift.
I realised that there were three entrances into A&E. One for those who walked in, those brought in by ambulance, and those who would arrive at the internal entrance on the main corridor.
As I sat there in the evening, suddenly the TV on the wall came on. The programme was on a loop. “The Good Life”, one all about canals, and one on railways and trains. I could not concentrate; I was tired and sore. The loop repeated itself.
I am so grateful for the support of my daughter Vanessa who stayed with me throughout the 14 hours in A&E.
I was given a copy of some of the available results that would be sent to my GP and told to book an appointment with my GP.
In 2023, I wrote a poem about ‘My Medical Centre’, which is an exaggeration on waiting to be called by the GP.
As it happened, later in 2024, I waited in the upstairs waiting room of my medical centre for two hours to be called in. The guy was very thorough with his patients, and I had been given a time which placed me at the end of his day’s session. A lady came upstairs assuming there were no more patients and was checking before locking up. She was surprised to find me still waiting. Eventually, I was called in, and as we were discussing my condition the cleaner came barging in!
So, I feel justified in including this poem in my blogs.
MY MEDICAL CENTRE
‘Just dropped in
To see what condition
My condition was in’
Sang Jerry Lee Lewis.
Ah! For a Medical Centre like that,
Just drop in and raise your hat,
Take a seat and have a chat.
There’s no chat for me or MOT,
No chance of a biscuit or a cup of tea,
Just stressful music and no TV.
Vandal proof chairs in a line,
Not suitable for my old spine,
Sitting here waiting since well before nine.
Have I time to spend a penny?
Or will I end up behind the many
Sitting, waiting, and not good company.
Only one ailment can be aired,
I’ll try and raise two, paired.
They say problems should be shared.
Oh! My name’s lit up, I have a result
But in which room does he consult?
Is it left or right, at which door do I halt?
As I knock the door, I make a choice,
My back, my bladder, or my creaking voice,
It’s the NHS, he’ll just prescribe a block of ice.
“How can I help you? Asked the voice.
I pondered the question; I have a choice?
He was searching his computer sitting in a hunch.
“I wondered if I could share your lunch,
I’ve been sitting out there long in that seat,
I now need something good to eat.”
Now let’s be fair and play the game,
Those wonderful angels, too many to name
Have cared for me, my friends and family,
Day and night carrying out tasks we never see.
Our population is expanding, and so are waistlines
Needing gastric bypasses to stem demands in later times.
A shortage of forty thousand caring nurses,
It’s time to open our wallets and our purses.
Where they work and where we’re treated
May not be grand and not always heated,
It’s the human touch, unselfishly given,
So, raise a cheer for the lives their saving.
Copyright 2023 Neil Davies
If this poem and my introduction reflects your experience of the NHS then, sadly, I am not alone. It’s no longer fit for purpose, and the health and wellbeing of our future generations is in jeopardy. Party promises and endless parliamentary debates are not going to solve it. Medical science and technology are offering new treatments, helpful aids, and successful cures, but the cost of providing them and maintaining them is beyond many hospital budgets.
Looking further afield, violent conflicts are decimating health provision to innocent thousands and more. They need help which is far greater than we ourselves desire. I am raising funds to support The British Red Cross Ukraine Appeal, and you can help by buying copies of my books –
POEMS BY AN OLD CODGER from AMAZON BOOKS.
See end of this blog
P.S. Next blog and poem is a true account FROM THE ORGAN STOOL – 2
In BOOK THREE
I have more blogs to tell and more poems for my blogs, so please keep watching.
Stay Safe,
Neil.