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mandragoraThursday I had to go to the local hospital for tests. On the plus side as a result I discovered, after almost two decades of living in the area, where the local hospital actually is. It was rather comforting to discover that should I ever require it (hopefully not) there's an A&E about 5 minutes drive away from where I live. Er, that's 5 minutes not in the rush hour, as even with all sirens blazing it's still going to take the ambulance a while to get round the North Circ when it's nose to tail full of commuters.
The tests in the morning involved the extraction of blood for various tests. My GP told me to fast from 9.00pm the night before, which I duly did. I checked out the hospital's website that night and learned all sorts of fascinating facts about the various department's performance targets for the coming year. Alas, any information about where I actually needed to go for the performance of the tests and what the procedure was was sadly lacking.
I duly arrived the Thursday morning and attempted to find a place in the carpark. I figured when I saw the amount of cars that were double-parked that I would have no joy in finding a space. I was right. In the end I drove all the way round the back of the entire hospital site and parked on a bit of wasteground. On the plus side I avoided having to pay the parking fees.
Went to reception and read the sign telling me that I needed to take a number for the blood test. Which I duly did. I looked at the number. 66. Unlucky for some. Looked at the number that was currently being seen. 25. Hmmm.
One hour thirty minutes later I finally reached the head of the queue.
"Oh," says the woman who was preparing the needle, "but you're having the glucose test as well as the others, aren't you? You didn't need to wait you know, as you're fasting. You could've come straight to the head of the queue."
Now they tell me.
"So," she continues brightly as she continues to prep the needle, "you've not eaten anything since last night or drunk anything but water?"
Me, with that sinking feeling: "Er, no. I mean I had a glass of diet lemonade this morning. My GP didn't say anything about only drinking water..."
"Ah, sorry," she says. "Can you come back tomorrow?"
The answer was no, as I was in court Friday morning. The upshot is I have to go back on Monday for the blood tests, having gone back again on Thursday afternoon for the other tests. But, why, oh why, didn't my GP tell me not to drink anything but water and why, oh why, wasn't there a sign at the hospital reception by the place where you take the queue ticket for the blood tests telling you that you don't need to wait if you're fasting? And why is the hospital website so crap?
Bureaucracy...
The tests in the morning involved the extraction of blood for various tests. My GP told me to fast from 9.00pm the night before, which I duly did. I checked out the hospital's website that night and learned all sorts of fascinating facts about the various department's performance targets for the coming year. Alas, any information about where I actually needed to go for the performance of the tests and what the procedure was was sadly lacking.
I duly arrived the Thursday morning and attempted to find a place in the carpark. I figured when I saw the amount of cars that were double-parked that I would have no joy in finding a space. I was right. In the end I drove all the way round the back of the entire hospital site and parked on a bit of wasteground. On the plus side I avoided having to pay the parking fees.
Went to reception and read the sign telling me that I needed to take a number for the blood test. Which I duly did. I looked at the number. 66. Unlucky for some. Looked at the number that was currently being seen. 25. Hmmm.
One hour thirty minutes later I finally reached the head of the queue.
"Oh," says the woman who was preparing the needle, "but you're having the glucose test as well as the others, aren't you? You didn't need to wait you know, as you're fasting. You could've come straight to the head of the queue."
Now they tell me.
"So," she continues brightly as she continues to prep the needle, "you've not eaten anything since last night or drunk anything but water?"
Me, with that sinking feeling: "Er, no. I mean I had a glass of diet lemonade this morning. My GP didn't say anything about only drinking water..."
"Ah, sorry," she says. "Can you come back tomorrow?"
The answer was no, as I was in court Friday morning. The upshot is I have to go back on Monday for the blood tests, having gone back again on Thursday afternoon for the other tests. But, why, oh why, didn't my GP tell me not to drink anything but water and why, oh why, wasn't there a sign at the hospital reception by the place where you take the queue ticket for the blood tests telling you that you don't need to wait if you're fasting? And why is the hospital website so crap?
Bureaucracy...
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Re: Ah yes, the NHS
Date: 14 March 2004 02:42 (UTC)My GP is excellent appointmentwise, in that I normally get an appointment by the next day at the latest. But I am lucky in that respect.
The NHS does have its undeniable problems, but I have heard too many horror stories about people having to mortgage their house to pay for treatment, or still be paying off medical bills over 20 years later, to say that it's not a good idea in general. I mean, GP's bills of $50 NZ twice a year is affordable for some (but not for all, especially if you have several children who are likely to need to see a GP more than twice a year) but what happens if you need hospital treatment? Who pays then?
I'm thinking of a American friend who had medical bills that came to $750,000 (yes, she was very seriously ill). Luckily she had health insurance through work but if she hadn't she'd either be dead now or so deply in debt that she'd never be free of it. I'd rather pay 10% of my income because chances are I'll need hospitalisation at some point in my life (although as I'm self-employed I actually pay only £2 per week - bargain!). Actually, I've been hospitalised three times so far, by having 3 accidents. Only one happened in Britain, though, I was in the US and France for the other two and, of course, had travel insurance which paid for the cost of treatment.
But, having seen how much those bills were I'm glad that if they had happened in the UK the NHS would have picked up the tab.