Time

So yesterday turned into an accident and emergency day.

 

Right hip jammed and tore at about 11.00, phoned 111 at 13.00, had a paramedic standing over my bed and administering IV morphine by 14.00, picked up for transport to the LGI by 16.30, checked in by 16.45, saw a doctor by 19.30 and was home by 20.00.

 

Honestly, just being kept warm, on a soft bed, and under supervision was probably all I needed. Both the consultant and the first paramedic confirmed the dislocated hip, and have expedited my rheumatology referral. This was the kind of A+E visit which reminds me why I have faith in the NHS – Everyone was professional and understanding, and genuinely listened and respected that I knew as much about my condition as they did, and tried to find sensible solutions.

 

This does, however, mean that I have to make an appointment with the GP, a task which is basically impossible. And I need to get back to complaining about them to the Ombudsman.

 

There’s something very wrong with a world in which a disabled person;

-Is scared to go to their GP, becuase the receptionists will stop them from getting an appointment and verbally abuse them, and one in three GPs at the surgery is actively hateful

-Is scared to call an ambulance, because the paramedics in the past have told them off for not keeping their house clean and insinuated that they mistreat their dog

-Is scared of A+E, due to having been manhandled by rude and dismissive consultants to the point of injury

-Is scared of getting more physio, due to the remaining physiotherapists at the local service being distinctly unsympathetic to anyone with a long-term condition

-Is scared of phoning 111 at all, after the time that they were put through to a nurse who berated them for being depressed and told them that they weren’t ill enough to be sad.

 

It’s not exactly looking good for my local services, right now.

 

On the other hand, the NHS has the most comfy blankets I have ever encountered.

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