Chipped the car out of the ice at about half past seven on a crisp saturday morning and set off for the train to London. Knowing that the usually punctual and reliable (!) railway system occasionally has problems at the weekend, I caught an early train; if the NHS was going to be kind enough to see me on a saturday, I figured it would be rude to turn up late.
Minor glitch on the jounrney, but I arrived at UCLH in good time and, thanks to a very helpful security guard, found my way to Podium Level 2. Intriguingly, the "Podium" turned out to be what I would call an Atrium; perhaps someone made a mistake when the building was put up in 2005? At any rate, everything was clean and shiny, and the lifts worked.
Into a waiting room which contained: a reception desk, complete with receptionist, who booked me in with a smile; several vending machines in case anyone arrived with a coffee deficit; 28 chairs, neatly arranged and a vase containing some very fetching plastic tulips (they looked better than you are imagining). One thing missing. Come to think of it, there were quite a lot of things missing.......no-one else there. I was not used to such choice, so hesitated before choosing the chair that I judged would give me the best warning of anyone approaching.
Bang on 10, a young woman in green arrived and introduced herself as my radiographer before leading me off to the imaging department. I will not bore you with the details, but she was very efficient, quite chatty and obviously knew her stuff. Unlike Medway, when I asked about potential side effects of the two substances she would be administering, she was able to answer both accurately and with confidence.
Into the machine, and away it went.............30 minutes of the kind of percussion that I usually associate with raves (not that I have any direct experience of such things!). Job done, unhooked from the intravenous line, and off I went. By 10:50 I was back out on the street and heading for a quick bit of shopping before catching the train home.
If only this was the standard that the NHS could achieve across all its services..........but then UCLH is a well funded London teaching hospital. It is fairly easy to see where all the resources have gone; the power of the medical establishment, in its narrowest sense, remains pre-eminent.
Nothing much happening on the hospital front until 7th January now. Hopefully the Prof and I will be able to agree a treatment plan at that meeting and things will start moving. Only 5 months since the journey started................
No song tonight. In its place, I thought that those of you who have never experienced and MRI scan might enjoy a short clip of the sounds that the machine makes. This clip is very abbreviated as the scans last about half an hour. To get the most out of this, you need to listen to the whole clip through headphones with the volume turned up as loud as you can bear. The real thing peaks at 120db which is about the same as a jet aeroplane taking off......
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4DHUim_Lc8
Sunday 14 December 2014
Wednesday 10 December 2014
Bonsoir
As I have left the blog for so long, I had not been looking at the statistics, so just a very quick note to welcome the reader(s?) from France. Je suis flatte que vous voulez lire. Je espere que vous apprecierez. My French is very poor, but I hope that is understandable!
Back to the NHS...........a new hospital to play with
It has been a while! I hope that you have all (?) found alternative sources of entertainment whilst the blog has been in hibernation and have not been too distraught without your favourite read...............
After what seemed an almost interminable wait, I finally made the first stumbling foray into a major London teaching hospital this morning. It might be a top class hospital in England, but please bear in mind that this is the NHS, so as you might guess, already things are not moving too smoothly. Before I describe today's events, a brief description of the correspendence so far.
Referral was made by Medway Hospital in October. Letter offering an appointment duly arrived within a week, quickly followed by another booking me in for an MRI scan on Saturday next. A few days later, the inevitable letter inviting me to contribute to a research study and a long questionnaire (this is a teaching hospital after all). Interesting study looking at what factors influence people's decision on the type of treatment they want. Excellent idea!
Long gap, then, out of the blue, another letter from UCLH.....
Another appointment?
A vital piece of information?
Another research study?
None of the above?
None of the above: it was an exact copy of the first letter (told you this was still the NHS!)
Back to today.........
As I was about to leave the house to catch a train to London, I noticed that there was a message on the answerphone. As I am notoriously bad at answering the telephone, this was nothing special, but I checked it anyway. Message from a very polite woman at UCLH saying that there was no need to attend the outpatient appointment as they could not make any decisions until after the MRI scan on Saturday. She left her name and a number so I called her back. She reiterated that I was welcome to go, but would probably be wasting my time by going to the appointment. I asked whether they had access to the MRI scan that I had been given at Medway Hospital? I had thought, naively as it turned out, that the NHS might be capable of sending such things electronically..............no chance. We have only spent umpteen squillion pounds on NHS information systems; this is clearly not enough! Upshot was that I decided to go anyway for three main reasons: a) I could test out the route, b)I would at least establish contact with the clinical team, and c) it would make me feel that something is happening. The latter was probably the most important consideration as it would help maintain my psychological wellbeing.
Off I toddled and ended up at an ultra modern, if not aesthetically pleasing, building off the Euston Road. The main reception area was quite a shock after Medway: clean, spacious, high backed comfy looking chairs, big reception desk, screens on the walls, and machines that invited you to scan your appointment letter to "sign in". Wow!
Sidled up to one of the machines, pressed its screen where invited, had the barcode on my letter scanned, machine emitted a very satisfying, and almost smug, bleep.......job done. Or was it? I expected a message with words to the effect of "thank you, please take a seat and watch a screen for your name to come up". What I got was "please go the reception desk". Went to the reception desk and spoke with the pleasant young man:
Me, handing over the letter: "your machine told me to come here"
Him, after checking his computer: "you need to go to reception downstairs"
Down the spiral staircase and into the netherworld of the UCLH Macmillan Cancer Treatment Centre...........have you guessed?
A queue of people in front of a reception desk personnned by two very stressed looking young men with piles of patient files behind them, and about 50 people sitting in chairs around the edges of the reception area. In a curious was, this was reassuring; it confirmed to me that I was still in the hands of the NHS. Got to the front of the queue and received an apology: their main outpatients booking system was down and they were having enter everything manually. Final confirmation that I was still in the NHS.
40 minutes after the due appointment time, a young man in an expensive, but crumpled and slightly ill fitting, suit (or it may have been "fashionable") called my name. He introduced himself as the Professor, made a further introduction to a young doctor from Italy who was to join us, led me to a room, invited me to take a seat, apologised that he had to attend to something else, and rushed off!
Had a great few minutes talking to the young Italian doctor; he was from Rome and had been allowed by his girlfriend to study in London for 12 months, but no longer than that.
The Prof returned, explained that he could not do much until after the MRI scan and leafed through the paperwork that he had on me from Medway. No pathology report, no copies of MRI, no copies of anything apart from the referral letter. Sent an email to his secretary asking her to pursue Medway, dictated a letter back to Medway and advised me that I should get copies of everything myself and carry them around in a folder................welcome to the 21st century!
Appointment booked to see him again on 7th January.
Hint: If you ever get tangled up with the NHS, get copies of everything (and I mean everything!) as you go along. You will need them if you want treatment.
Before I sign off until after the MRI scan on Saturday, an amusing juxtaposition. Whilst writing this, there was an item on Newsnight (for non UK readers, this is a formerly "heavyweight" TV news programme which is watched by about 6 of us in the country), discussing private contracts in the NHS. A wonderfully dinosaur-like representative of hospital consultants was trying to tell us NHS good, private bad. Given that about 90% of hospital consultants derive significant proportions of their income from private work, this seemed a little hypocritical. It also proved that she had never had to use the NHS herself!
Not sure why I thought of this song, but it has been rattling round my head for a few days so I thought I would share it with you:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BF9TjbdJyUE
Back on Saturday..............
After what seemed an almost interminable wait, I finally made the first stumbling foray into a major London teaching hospital this morning. It might be a top class hospital in England, but please bear in mind that this is the NHS, so as you might guess, already things are not moving too smoothly. Before I describe today's events, a brief description of the correspendence so far.
Referral was made by Medway Hospital in October. Letter offering an appointment duly arrived within a week, quickly followed by another booking me in for an MRI scan on Saturday next. A few days later, the inevitable letter inviting me to contribute to a research study and a long questionnaire (this is a teaching hospital after all). Interesting study looking at what factors influence people's decision on the type of treatment they want. Excellent idea!
Long gap, then, out of the blue, another letter from UCLH.....
Another appointment?
A vital piece of information?
Another research study?
None of the above?
None of the above: it was an exact copy of the first letter (told you this was still the NHS!)
Back to today.........
As I was about to leave the house to catch a train to London, I noticed that there was a message on the answerphone. As I am notoriously bad at answering the telephone, this was nothing special, but I checked it anyway. Message from a very polite woman at UCLH saying that there was no need to attend the outpatient appointment as they could not make any decisions until after the MRI scan on Saturday. She left her name and a number so I called her back. She reiterated that I was welcome to go, but would probably be wasting my time by going to the appointment. I asked whether they had access to the MRI scan that I had been given at Medway Hospital? I had thought, naively as it turned out, that the NHS might be capable of sending such things electronically..............no chance. We have only spent umpteen squillion pounds on NHS information systems; this is clearly not enough! Upshot was that I decided to go anyway for three main reasons: a) I could test out the route, b)I would at least establish contact with the clinical team, and c) it would make me feel that something is happening. The latter was probably the most important consideration as it would help maintain my psychological wellbeing.
Off I toddled and ended up at an ultra modern, if not aesthetically pleasing, building off the Euston Road. The main reception area was quite a shock after Medway: clean, spacious, high backed comfy looking chairs, big reception desk, screens on the walls, and machines that invited you to scan your appointment letter to "sign in". Wow!
Sidled up to one of the machines, pressed its screen where invited, had the barcode on my letter scanned, machine emitted a very satisfying, and almost smug, bleep.......job done. Or was it? I expected a message with words to the effect of "thank you, please take a seat and watch a screen for your name to come up". What I got was "please go the reception desk". Went to the reception desk and spoke with the pleasant young man:
Me, handing over the letter: "your machine told me to come here"
Him, after checking his computer: "you need to go to reception downstairs"
Down the spiral staircase and into the netherworld of the UCLH Macmillan Cancer Treatment Centre...........have you guessed?
A queue of people in front of a reception desk personnned by two very stressed looking young men with piles of patient files behind them, and about 50 people sitting in chairs around the edges of the reception area. In a curious was, this was reassuring; it confirmed to me that I was still in the hands of the NHS. Got to the front of the queue and received an apology: their main outpatients booking system was down and they were having enter everything manually. Final confirmation that I was still in the NHS.
40 minutes after the due appointment time, a young man in an expensive, but crumpled and slightly ill fitting, suit (or it may have been "fashionable") called my name. He introduced himself as the Professor, made a further introduction to a young doctor from Italy who was to join us, led me to a room, invited me to take a seat, apologised that he had to attend to something else, and rushed off!
Had a great few minutes talking to the young Italian doctor; he was from Rome and had been allowed by his girlfriend to study in London for 12 months, but no longer than that.
The Prof returned, explained that he could not do much until after the MRI scan and leafed through the paperwork that he had on me from Medway. No pathology report, no copies of MRI, no copies of anything apart from the referral letter. Sent an email to his secretary asking her to pursue Medway, dictated a letter back to Medway and advised me that I should get copies of everything myself and carry them around in a folder................welcome to the 21st century!
Appointment booked to see him again on 7th January.
Hint: If you ever get tangled up with the NHS, get copies of everything (and I mean everything!) as you go along. You will need them if you want treatment.
Before I sign off until after the MRI scan on Saturday, an amusing juxtaposition. Whilst writing this, there was an item on Newsnight (for non UK readers, this is a formerly "heavyweight" TV news programme which is watched by about 6 of us in the country), discussing private contracts in the NHS. A wonderfully dinosaur-like representative of hospital consultants was trying to tell us NHS good, private bad. Given that about 90% of hospital consultants derive significant proportions of their income from private work, this seemed a little hypocritical. It also proved that she had never had to use the NHS herself!
Not sure why I thought of this song, but it has been rattling round my head for a few days so I thought I would share it with you:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BF9TjbdJyUE
Back on Saturday..............
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