I've had several encounters with the National 'Elf Service, usually because of family members' 'elf, and occasionally my own. Despite its many problems, I do believe in it as a system. As Gill says: Bring Back Matron!
Friday 4th January:
First day back at work after the Christmas hols. Felt very odd in abdominal region.
By Saturday:
Pain on right sight and stomach playing up. Uh oh!
Sunday:
Pain made worse by walking, coughing, bending, yawning- anything really. Decided not to move all day.
Monday:
Here we go. Time to face The Doctors Receptionist.
I was prepared for a fight. Monday morning is never the ideal time to get an appointment. Everything is available twenty four hours a day, seven days a week these days, except the doctor, so everyone suffers in silence over the weekend and then mobs the surgery on Monday.
I had my script ready as I picked up the phone.
"There's a lot of sickness and diarrhoea around at the moment you know!" barked the rottweiler.
I played my trump card. "I have pain on the right side of my abdomen. I'm worried it might be the appendix."
" Eleven fffyf"
"Sorry, was that eleven fifteen or fifty?"
"FIFTY. FIVE OH!"
Sound of angry fingers slamming on keyboard. Go on then dear. Break it.
I arrived at eleven forty five expecting to see a waiting room heaving with sick people.
There were three. With three doctors on duty. Not a bad ratio to my mind.Clearly the rottweilers were being very efficient at scaring the patients off.
The doctor was calm, unflustered and charm itself. She examined me in all the places doctors usually do, and asked if my appendix was still intact.
" Yes" I said.
"Uh huh" she said. All doctors say "Uh huh" in every given situation, which no doubt applies to doctors across the world.
She then frowned and said "Hm. There's a couple of things going on here. I'd like you to go to the hospital. I'll give you a letter. Tell me what happens. I'd be interested to know."
It's encouraging to know that your GP is interested in their patient.
I left the surgery, resisting the temptation to wave the letter at the rottweilers and give them the one-fingered salute.
Bought two magazines, phoned the family, and caught the bus (yes, the bus) to the 'orspital.
Anyone who has been to Accident and Emergency knows that you can count yourself very lucky indeed if you wait less than four hours to be seen.
I was very lucky as it turned out; a mere two hours crawled by before I found myself being prodded and pummelled and interrogated by the doctor. I had blood tests, X rays, and the tube thingy (Gill will know what it's called) put in my hand ready to be put on a drip.
I was then trundled into the lift and taken to the ward, which was in a lovely newly -built wing, and, because they thought I might have something nasty and infectious, put in a side room, much to my delight.
Don't tell them, but I think it was a Private Room, not intended for the peasants.
I felt slightly guilty, like I'd sneaked into a First Class carriage on the train, and was waiting to be found out.....
I unravelled the intricasies of Patientline, applied for a mortgage and made a few phone calls. I discovered you can watch TV without headphones, send e mails and use the Internet!
There is a handset for controlling the device; you press various buttons for the TV, radio etc, then you open it up and there is a little keyboard inside! You need a knitting needle to use the buttons and mouse, which is the size of a small pea, and it is slow. So slow that at at first I thought it wasn't working, so did everything twice and got into a pickle, like posting in duplicate! Whatever you do, don't make a typing or spelling mistake, as unless you press the backspace button very slowly and very gently, you get this: ooooooo!
However, I managed to talk to you and send the odd e mail, and felt very pleased with myself.
At about nine o'clock a nurse appeared." Have you seen a doctor since you came on the ward?"
" No. Am I in for the night?"
" Oh yes. You might need an operation and that drip takes six hours."
"Oh." Sigh.
She came back five minutes later. " Sorry. Because you're in this side room they forgot about you. You might as well settle down as they might be a while yet."
"Hmmph."
I went to sleep.
At about two o'clock I was rudely awaken by the six hundred watt lights being slammed on. It was the Gestapo come to interrogate me, in the shape of
a young lad of about fourteen playing at doctors. He asked me the same old questions and prodded and pummelled me in the same old places, just like on those hospital programmes he'd watched at home with his mum.
" We don't think it's appendicitis because it's getting better, but we'll monitor you during the night."
" Please sonny, I've got a ghastly headache, and I'm so thirsty, couldn't you ask mum if I can have a drop of water and a painkiller? "
" Ok I'll get the nurse".
Mummy nurse; Mary, who was round, and what Charles Dickens would call "comely" ( as all nurses should be ) allowed me one mouthful of water and some paracetamol.
She then tried to change the drip attachment in my hand, which had been giving me problems, couldn't do it ( I have small veins ) so had to call another nurse to help. It was eventually sorted out, and Mary said: "You should write a book; "My day in hospital." "
I don't think I can quite squeeze a book out of my experience, however!
I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep through my headache, but was fully awake by six.
Spent the next two hours or so watching TV, and then, hooray! I was going to be allowed breakfast.
There is nothing like being starved to make you appreciate hospital food. That's why they do it you know.
A teacupful of cold porridge, one slice of bread with a scraping of butter and marmalade. Yum! Please sir, I want some more....
I was then offered tea, coffee, hot chocolate.
"Yes please!"
"Tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate."
" Oh OK, tea then."
Another hour passed.
A hush fell on the ward.
The Head Honcho had swaggered in, surrounded by his ever attentive and adoring entourage.
What is the entourage for? Well, there are four earnest medical students clutching clipboards, hanging on his every word and writing notes. Then there is one to mop his brow, one to carry his coat tails and one to scatter rose petals in front of his feet. Rather like Steve Wooler entering his office I would imagine...
" We have decided "( is that the royal "we"?) he proclaimed, "that you can go home. It may have been an infection in the area around the appendix, or it may be the gall bladder. We'll send you an appointment for a scan as an out-patient. I'll get you some painkillers."
And with a sweep of his coat tails he and his scurrying entourage had gone.
I went home. On the bus.
So, I'm now back to "normal" and looking forward to my scan on 5th February.....
) I feel that I am personally responsible for producing enough paperwork to keep about a dozen bureaucrats busy "shuffling" for at least a half a year 
.Off to work tonight for my first of 4. I expect to be busy as nights allways are these days but thats ok because we are good at team work in theatres.So when you are tucked up in your fluffy wincyettes I will have my trendy "blues" and clogs on. All in a nights work eh!
)a celebration was held at Coddries where lots of White Oak ,Carib and a little Forres Puncheon was consumed.As well as the bride and her groom those present were Tony G. and Jeanette,Carole and Gregory and many others,including yours truly.I think it is true to say a good time was had by all,and that there were a few lie ins and mild hangovers this morning.
. Bit concerned in case she has been snatched back by the local centre of excellence in health care to be drip fed with subliminal thoughts in order to offer glowing reports in chapter two of her short story 
