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A Sunday visit to A&E/ER.


2014-26-10--17-14-44 Hospital changedAfter years of suffering from bouts of tonsillitis and being very poorly indeed, my daughter [who is in early thirties] finally had her tonsils removed, last Monday.

This lunchtime found my husband, daughter and myself waiting in the A&E/ER department. After a day and night of ear ache in both ears…daughter had endured enough. Her GP had referred her to the GP at the hospital. WHY? Don’t even get me started on that!

She had an appointment for 12.30. We sat for an hour listening to something that resembled   sounded like a zombie apocalypse, coming from a room down the corridor. It stopped, only to start-up again about five minutes later. Either somebody was watching The Walking Dead, or  the staff were receiving training on what to do in the event of zombies appearing in our neck of the woods. It could happen… there’s few of them knocking around in the Houses of Parliament.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t very happy and it was extremely unnerving for us, sat listening to it. We made plans what to do with chairs and walking sticks if something unholy suddenly came crashing through the door and after us.

Well, you have to find something to do whilst you wait, and wait, and wait, and wait some more. You can’t expect them to keep to the appointment times when the doctor has to periodically appear from the room and wander aimlessly up and down the corridor, with a clipboard, looking extremely important.

Then another doctor appeared and summoned my daughter.

Copyright: Axel Lauer/Shutterstock/.com
Copyright: Axel Lauer/Shutterstock/.com

She has an infection and has been prescribed some penicillin.

I may be being a bit thick here [that’s happened before], but I’m really struggling to understand how someone who has had this operation and has being advised to keep away from others, for fear of picking up infections; has to go along to a hospital to receive treatment [and brave the zombies]. She is off university, to avoid coming into contact with others, but a doctor is unable to do a home visit?

Why is this and what has happened to the good old-fashioned way of doctoring? Come back Dr Findlay…all is forgiven.

She’s fast asleep in our bed and I’ve gone into mother hen mode. A good night’s sleep and me fussing over her, will get her feeling well enough to make her escape tomorrow, back home. She’ll be glad to get away from me and back on to the road to recovery.

That wasn’t quite what I had in mind for my Sunday…how about you? I hope you’ve had a good day. Thanks for dropping by and the post that I was working on for today, will appear tomorrow. You have been warned!

I’m off to read my daughter a bedtime story now…about zombies!!

Until the next time.

 

 

 

Author:

Many moons ago, I started to write. But, as life twisted and turned the only thing I got to write was letters, in my job. Things changed, I left my job and returned to the writing. I have loads of ideas and very little time to do them in.( Sound familiar?) I write, because I need to. When I am unable to write I walk in the shadow of madness. Some folk would argue that I'm there already. As well as writing, I read, paint, garden, knit and have just started making candles. I am owned by a retired greyhound called Daisy. My previous greyhound(Misty) was the inspiration to get writing again. Daisy is keeping that inspiration alive. Thanks for reading. Dorne x

Go on...make my day/life and leave a comment. I don't bite...much!

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