Recently I
went deaf after swimming (my own fault, diving and underwater swimming in sea
water not maybe the best idea). Then after a miserable day or two of
continually saying “What?” to everyone and driving people mad, my right ear became
seriously painful. This was over a weekend, and, as it was all too obvious what
was the problem, and there was no need to turn up at A & E and be a
nuisance, I decided to go to the NHS
walk in centre nearby on the Monday morning.
It’s about
five minute’s walk away, and I was quite prepared to wait to be seen. In fact,
I was seen quite quickly, but the waiting time was quite an experience.
The NHS
walk in centres are mainly for people who can’t get to their own doctor (so
people not in their home town), or for minor emergencies (a nasty cut, for
example) or for people who aren’t registered with a GP.
The sort of
people who can’t get themselves organised to register with a GP tend to be the
sort of people who really need medical services. So, in the waiting area were a lot
of people waiting for a special clinic, and I think, judging by the clientele,
it had to be a drugs clinic. A young man was continually and loudly complaining
about having to wait, convinced that he had been in some way discriminated
against. He was telling everyone he’d come about his feet, alleging that they
were causing him agony, but he kept
getting up to dance to music on his headphones; and of course, when he was
called through, he couldn’t hear because of the headphones, and the staff had
to go over and get him. And he wasn’t polite, even then.
Then, the
automatic doors opened, admitting a blast of stale beer smell, and in them
stood an elderly and very disreputable man, swaying, and bellowing at the top
of his voice:
“This is
the best f**ing walk in centre in Nottingham! I’m telling you, you’re all
marvellous! You’re the best in Nottingham! You’re f**ing great, I’m telling
you! Do you hear, this is the best f**ing walk in centre in Nottingham!”
Then he
tottered off down the street, the doors closed, and I was left feeling great
admiration for the staff, who aren’t paid enough, however much they are paid,
and a genuine sense of pride in and gratitude for the NHS. I’m so glad it looks
after everyone, even people who don’t “deserve” looking after. I don’t mind
paying through my taxes for it at all, and I bet that feeling is true of the vast majority of
the British.
To finish
the story – I saw a nurse practitioner and got a prescription of antibiotic drops
for my ear, and can hear again, thank God.
