Friday, 11 May 2012

Gay marriage or a plaster?

This post may ramble. I am currently self-medicating with a non-prescribed combination of Co-proxamol and Chianti. 

Let the reader understand.

Today I underwent minor surgical procedure in a brand spanking new facility - commissioned, built and paid for under the previous administration's budget. Golly me it was smart.

It was however staffed and managed under the current adminstration's budget.

Bit of background. Got bitten by a midge in Scotland three years ago. Bite went manky. Turned into something nasty - blah blah blah. Seemingly endless consultations, referrals and appointments resulted in being referred by Dermatology to Maxillofacial for lumps to be removed.

Turned up on time and was seen two hours later.

"Oh no" said Maxillofacial. "Wrong team, we have no resources. You must go away."

"Au contraire"  said I. "I'm here now, and here I shall stay until you find a scalpel".

Much discussion ensued - details of which, even under current medication, I shall not trouble you with, but needless to say, being middle class and articulate is often helpful.

The result was, the skin graft, the 'flap', the aftercare etc etc  previously recommended had to be foregone. Time and resources did not allow.

And so, in the twenty minutes remaining to us, the surgeon and I agreed that he should do his best. A quick excision and a few stitches were all that were on offer.

He managed to find a scalpel and took it to my arm. Shortly afterwards the helpful technician reminded him, stressed as he was, that as this was an invasive procedure he should perhaps tuck his tie into his shirt, thereby preventing it from dangling into the wound. He only took one mobile phone call demanding his presence elsewhere during the procedure. He was only interrupted four times by people coming into the room and asking "How long are you going to be?"  Some poor woman was apparently already anethetised, opened up and waiting for him.

Procedure was completed. He left. I presume to attend to his next patient, rather than have lunch.  Dressings were not available. (Budget?)  Fortunately, Bethnal Green was only a short tube ride away and I was able to purchase one at the very helpful pharmacy there.

Obviously it's a shame that gay marriage wasn't in the Queen's Speech. But never forget, the possibility of it provided a very handy smokescreen in the week that Health Service "reforms" passed their final hurdle in the Upper Chamber.

The Coalition are cunts.

1 comment:

  1. Quite alarming and frightening to hear first hand from other patient's experiences of the poor standard of NHS care that is given in reality...sadly politicians are such pathological liars and so skilled at presenting a different picture to the electorate with misleading statistics and fiction...our wonderful NHS will continue to be dismantled and privatised under the Tories and has never been " safe in their hands"! Hope you make a full recovery from your affliction. Good job you could speak up for yourself, feel sorry for those who are not so articulate and able to fight their corner!