Oooooh Matron!
After publicly extolling the virtues of our health system last week, irony has gatecrashed the party wearing a huge "I AM IRONIC" tee shirt, screaming "Make way for some Irony!" whilst galloping past humming Alanis Morrisette......
'Twas 2 weeks hence when upon returning from my daily occupational servitude, fawning and scraping as one does, the following letter was waiting at home for me:
I googled the procedure and observed that participants in this test were of high risk factor groups, i.e long time diabetics. So I duly confirmed the appointment and booked in a days leave to cope with the onerous stress to be placed on my cardio system.
The appointed day dawned, just as surely as a Sid James lecherous guffaw.
I set off early, careering through stalled traffic, hurtling to the hospital, keen to deliver its precious cargo without any delay.
Oooh no.......watch out......ooohh nurse...
I arrived in time and checked in at reception where my details were double checked and verified that I was here for the Stress Echo test.
Furtively I scanned the room around me, eager to see how many others were waiting for the procedure.
The waiting room appeared to be replete with geriatrics, not a single patient appeared to be under 65, excluding moi obviously....
The minutes flitted by, and soon became an hour, but I was content observing the nursing staff go about their interaction with the fascinating receptionists. A breed of creature divorced from mankind by the surgical removal of their senses of humour
Torn away from this thought, I was finally greeted by my nurse, who in order to secure her privacy, I shall name Gerald. .
She took the usual measurements, height, weight, blood pressure (both sitting and standing) and ensured that I had not partaken of any liquids or food since midnight " of course as a diabetic you are excused to have your breakfast". I gave her an odd stare, but agreed that I had indeed fasted as instructed
She lead me in to the testing chamber, which contained another nurse, who looked strangely familiar, but I could not place her.
A treadmill was adjacent to the bed, next to it,a large monitor attached to a machine, protruding from which a host of tentacles spread.
"Gerald" asked me to disrobe whilst she proceeded to attach the tentacled sensors to my chest, until I resembled a small regional squid processing plant.
The other nurse asked for me to lay down and she started to check the electrical equipment. She pointed to the treadmill and asked whether I could walk. Clearly since I had made it without incident to the department unaided, I affirmed that I could indeed walk. Excellent she replied, some of our patients have difficulty with the treadmill and we therefore have to artificially increase their heart rate with drugs. I assured her that that was not the case with me.
She then turned to face me and noticing my operation scar asked what that was from. Clearly she had not read her notes otherwise she would have been privy to my medical history. I therefore flippantly replied voice laced with sarcasm that it was from my appendix removal.
Gosh, thats rather large for an appendix, it must have been the size of a herring, she jocularly supposed.
This was turning into a most peculiar morning I postulated.
Matters were about to turn odder still......
Gerald disappeared, and a doctor entered, holding my notes.
Good morning Andrew, Im Doctor XXXX, and will be looking after you this morning. Very soon we will administer the dobutamine and wait for it to circulate. Then we will ask you to perform some light exercises to get your heart rate increased for us to monitor. It is important to make sure that your cardio system can take the stress of a major operation. He said all this as if I was a 12 year old.
Ho hum, what operation I asked?
His face looked puzzled and looked again at his chart, then at Nurse Barbara.
Your kidney trasplant, he replied.
But I had one last year.
Ah that will be that scar then, we did wonder. So that kidney failed?
Err no actually, its fine and dandy thank you.
Out he hurried frowning as he scoured my notes, as he dug his mobile from his coat pocket.
After a few moments the doc came back and apologised but the test had been booked in June last year as part of the work up to the transplant.
There had alas, been an administrative error, and this appointment had been booked just before my actual transplant.
I was free to go, and he again apologised for the inconvenience.
Carry on at your IN Convenience I think the doctor meant..
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