I have just had a most uncomfortable vision of the future. Having had a painfully swollen and tender foot for a week or so, the swelling moved up my leg, so that Friday night produced rather more waking hours than sleeping. Reluctantly, I pulled out of my hockey umpiring duties on Saturday morning, packed a bag of food and light entertainment in the form of cards, reading material and crosswords and headed for the A&E Department of Eastbourne District General Hospital. It is an establishment that I have visited a couple of times for X-rays, so I knew that it doesn’t win any accolades for architectural merit, or indeed for high levels of care and maintenance. I also fully expected that I would be detained at the NHS’s pleasure for some considerable time. Unfortunately, my low expectations were overwhelmed on all fronts. A TV screen, in what used to be Casualty, informed its reluctant audience that the “current waiting time is 7 hours”. That exceeded why worst fears, not least of which because the room was tatty, unloved and, dare I say it, unclean. How could they possibly keep a place like this free of the dreaded superbugs that haunt so many places of sickness and healing? Fingers crossed that my immune system is still in good shape despite whatever is happening to my leg. I suspect that I ended up jumping the queue somewhat as they feared I might have a blood clot, which could be potentially life threatening. Having spent much of the weekend there, undergoing ultrascans, chest X-rays, urine tests, numerous blood tests and much prodding and poking I emerged into the welcome daylight with an apparently clean bill of health…..and a bloody painful leg. I fear more tests, drugs and hypotheses lurk on the horizon.
But the “uncomfortable vision of the future” refers to the unutterably depressing prospect of joining the trolleyed ranks, of sighing, groaning, muttering, tube besmirched geriatrics; the poor souls for whom the good days have gone and only misery remains. If that sounds overly dramatic, please go and see for yourself. That said, I have nothing but praise for the staff of all descriptions who seemed to be doing a marvellous job in pretty trying circumstances.
Well that turned out to be rather more macabre than I had intended! If that sounds odd, it’s because almost invariably when I start writing a blog I have no idea where I am going, I just let my fingers roam across the keyboard.
I didn’t actually see any rats availing themselves of free healthcare, but I bet there are plenty there. As you probably know, China has just celebrated the new Year of the Rat. According to Chinese Zodiac folklore, Ratties are reputed to be frugal savers. They might need to be. The last Year of The Rat was 2008, which, you may recall, was an indifferent year for banks….amongst others. There are those naysayers who would have you believe that a potentially even more catastrophic financial crisis is overdue. Rats could end up with a seriously bad name.
It’s strange how many of those lovable little critters in The Wind in The Willows have ended up as terms of abuse, or negative comments; “you rat”, “you little toad”, “there’s a mole in the organisation”, “don’t badger me”.
As a final thought, is it too far-fetched to think that a Global pandemic could trigger a Global financial crisis, with China at the epicentre? I felt so positive about 2020!
ADayInTheStrifeOf 