A Summer's Afternoon in the Hospital

I was supposed to be meeting the Communist at the hospital this afternoon so that the Big Boss Man could look at his eye - the one with the detached retina - and decide whether they'd be able to operate to un-detach it again.

So this was a big deal to the Communist, the question being

a) Am I going to be blind in one eye for ever?

or

b) Am I going to get some sight back, even if it's not perfect?

The Communist, of course, had been worrying about it all since his last appointment a few weeks ago.

At that appointment, I checked that they had booked the right transport - an ambulance that can take a man in a wheelchair. If you're new to this sad saga, he had his left leg amputated last autumn because of diabetes.

Anyway, I had also spoken to the nursing home where he lives, three times, to check that the correct transport had been arranged, and was assured that it has been.

I walked to the hospital because it's not too far, and got there just in good time, and two o'clock came and went and the Communist failed to arrive.

So I made a few enquiries and, to cut a loooooong story short, they had sent the wrong kind of ambulance, the kind where you lie down, which was no use at all, since you can't get the Communist out of his wheelchair without two people and a mechanical hoist.

The Transport Woman - clearly used to dealing with Slightly Stroppy Daughter and the like - said "Well, we can only send the ambulance we're asked to send. They get it wrong a lot."

So they said that they were now sending the correct ambulance, and they did, and the Communist finally arrived at the eye clinic at about twenty past three, by which time I was really, really cross and upset, mostly because I knew that he would be upset.

And he was, though trying to put a brave face on it. But luckily they saw him pretty quickly, and it was tricky to manoeuvre him into the correct position for the machine to look into his eye. He saw the Second-in-Command Man, who went and fetched the Big Boss Man.

The Big Boss Man said that there had been a haemorrhage behind the retina, which had detached it, but that it had already done a lot of damage and operating would be dangerous for the Communist and wouldn't have much result. In a few months the blood would clear and he might get a little bit of vision back, but not much.

So that was that. Fortunately the other eye's in pretty good nick, considering it's going to be eighty-five on September 14th.

And then we went to wait for an ambulance to go back again. The Communist suggested that I might like to leave and go home but I wasn't going to leave him on his own, sitting in the foyer near the coffee shop, which, of course, was closed.

So we waited. I was bored and he was exhausted.

After half an hour or so they laid on some entertainment - the fire alarm went off. It was very, very loud and went on for a very, very long time. Everyone stayed exactly where they were. Nobody suggested that everyone should perhaps leave the building. The Communist and I were about two yards from the exit anyway so I reckoned we'd make a mad wheel for it when we saw the smoke.

Two fire engines turned up.

Yes, yes I know that you know what a fire engine looks like but by then I was very, very bored so I had to take a photo of something.

Some firemen got out and milled about. The alarm continued. Loudly.

Here are the firemen, milling, next to the queue of people waiting for transport.

Finally the firemen stopped milling about and went back to their fire engines and the alarm stopped.

And a paramedic arrived and called the Communist's name and we went in the ambulance and went back to the nursing home, where they had saved him something to eat.

I was really worn out with the hanging around and the stress of it all. The Communist was doing his best, for a man who'd just been told he's permanently blind in one eye, but I think it will take him a few days to recover.

That's the thing about the National Health Service. If you have an accident or a serious illness, it will scoop you up and look after you. If, however, you're just rather old and infirm, it will do its best to finish you off.