Tales of the NHS

The NHS comes in for a lot of criticism these days and leaving aside the possibility, probability even, that there are forces at work determined to drive it to a slow and painful death, there are initiatives and moves afoot which aim to improve patients’ experience.

Both Keith and I have had mixed experiences of the NHS and I have not hesitated to take to the blog to complain loud and long when I felt it necessary, so it is only fair that I also mention it when things go right.

Regular readers may remember that I had a problem with my gall bladder a couple of years ago and was referred for an operation to have it removed. To cut a long and tedious story short, I spent several weeks commuting between the hospital and my GP because they and I couldn’t agree on the state of my blood pressure, culminating in my decision not to go ahead with the operation because by then, I was not suffering any ill effects and I was fed up with being shunted from pillar to post.

Fast forward to last December, when I again had some gall bladder problems and had to be referred again to the hospital, but what a change!

This time, I saw a registrar, who wanted to know why I had withdrawn from the waiting list, which I was happy to explain.

Then, I saw a nurse for my assessment (also a Welsh learner, which was nice), who, among other things, took my blood pressure and again, it was a bit on the high side. I know I suffer from ‘white coat syndrome’ and explained to the nurse that I had in fact asked my GP for a 24 hour ambulatory BP monitor, where I would be fitted with a monitor for 24 hours, which would record my blood pressure at half hourly intervals through the day and hourly at night. Unfortunately, I was told that it was ‘too expensive’ and I ‘didn’t need it.’ The nurse did one of those sharp intake of breath expressions.

“That was a bit naughty,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter because we can do that for you here.”

And so it happened that I spent 24 hours from Monday to Tuesday, trussed up to a computerised monitor, with the result that they could see that my BP is on the slightly high side but fine for anaesthetic. Obviously, if I were to need medication I would take it, but I see no reason for taking medication unnecessarily. The nurse practitioner who fitted the machine explained that the hospital volunteer group had fund raised to buy four of them, which in turn, tells its own story about NHS funding and where it ends up - or doesn’t, but that’s another debate.

So all in all, my experience this time was far more pleasant than two years ago. The staff I saw were pleasant, friendly and extremely helpful, a far cry from the rigid, ‘routine-response’ attitude the last time I was in that department.

Now, all I have to do is wait!

Thanks to the bi-lingual information sheet I was given, I have also learned that the Welsh for gall bladder is 'y goden fustl'. Don't say you never learn anything from this blog!

Toby checking in

Hello again, everyone.

Bet you wondered where I’d got to as you haven’t heard from me for so long, but actually, I have been working very hard learning to be a good dog, and believe me, it’s a lot harder than you’d think!

For one thing, I’ve had to improve on my toilet habits. Yep, and that means remembering to ask to go outside when I need to do something. I think Jenny said something about it being a good time to go to the toilet when we’re out walking, especially in the field, but I still haven’t quite cottoned on to that yet. On the whole, though, although I slip up occasionally, I am a lot better at remembering and when I don’t - then I just hide under the dining table for a while.

Next thing I had to work on was eating. Pretty easy, you’d think, right? Wrong! Apparently, I eat far too quickly. In fact, I’ve finished my food in the time it takes Jenny to put the measuring cup away. Now I thought that was a clever thing to do, but Jenny didn’t agree, especially when I was sick a couple of times, so she bought me a new feeding bowl. It’s a bit of a strange one, actually, because it has three raised bits in it and, guess what? It means I have to chase the food around the raised bits so it takes longer to eat it. What is it with these adults? They can never leave a dog in peace!

When we go out for a walk, that can be a bit tricky too. I get a bit nervous and sometimes I bark at people and other dogs. I don’t mean any harm but Jenny isn’t impressed. She thinks it’s bad manners. Anyway, these days, when we are getting near other people and their dogs, she takes a small treat out of her pocket and, before you know it, I’m concentrating on how soon I can get that and not bothering at all about who else is around. If I walk past without barking, I get the treat. Clever, eh? (Think I might try and carry on with that one!)

And then there’s Paddy, my bestest friend of all. I try and stay near him all the time. If we go out in the garden, I stick to him like glue, if he is lying around in his bed, I bring him toys so that he will play with me, but he seems to get more tired than I do and sometimes, he gets really fed up and gives a bit of a growl. Still, I think he likes having me around, really… usually…

So that’s me, folks, just over six months old and growing fast.

And if you asked Keith, Jenny or Paddy, they would tell you how wonderful I am - well, I think they would… maybe … possibly...