RESISTANCE IS FUTILE?

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE?

For the past three years I have been part cyborg with a metal and plastic implant in my chest. Rita has always referred to me as a "Borg" (Star Trek reference) but is quite thrilled because I am now completely human again (depending upon your point of view).

Last Friday I had another call from Wizard Centre; asking me this time if I would care to attend their chopping department on Monday morning, about two hours before God gets up for breakfast. They indicated that free anaesthetic would be available and that they would sharpen their best knives over the weekend if I confirmed that I would like to play. Never being one to miss an opportunity for fun, I told them that I would love to go but wouldn’t be able to stay long because I needed to be home to watch part two of something on TV and as usual we went through the joking ritual of them saying "maybe" and me saying "let’s not start that again because long before I decide to leave, you will want to throw me out for being a pain". It’s not that I’m awkward; it’s just that I have a one man campaign to solve the shortage of hospital beds by occupying them for as little time as possible. I like to do my bit.

I had an 8 hour wait before the op but this was entirely due to my own stupidity in that I didn’t fully read the confirmation letter and therefore didn’t phone ahead. Here in the UK we are in the midst of a serious scandal about infections of the potentially lethal M.R.S.A superbug which are almost always picked up in hospitals and the problem is made worse because it seems that many hospitals do not observe even basic hygiene rules. With this in mind I was fully prepared to have to complain if I found as much as a speck of dust anywhere. I am fairly British in that I very rarely complain, however when I do make a stand it is to devastating effect. Many years ago I discovered that going through the normal channels was a complete waste of time so I developed a strategy which has yet to fail. I can best explain this with an example. When Kim was in hospital for Rita’s birth there was something happening which we found totally unacceptable (too long a story for details) and pleasant requests for a resolution were apparently falling on deaf ears. I therefore faxed (days before widespread email) a) the head of maternity b) the Chief Exec of the hospital c) the board of the Trust and d) The Secretary of State for Health, demanding a resolution and undertakings from them – within 4 hours. Guess who didn’t have a problem any more. The common belief that shit flows downhill is absolutely correct however most people do not realize that it also accelerates and grows exponentially.

Whilst I was not looking to cause problems I was certainly going to be very aware of my surroundings and prepared to identify infection risks. Out of a total of 10 hours on the ward there were nine minutes when somebody wasn’t cleaning something. The entire floor was cleaned in an almost perpetual cycle and I had to keep moving and talking to avoid be sprayed and dusted every few minutes - actually I would have been quite happy for the surgeon to bring his best knives and sewing kit and to do the op with me lying on the floor of the toilet. 11 out of 10 to ward 8A.

Yet again I was impressed that they got the most fundamental part of healthcare absolutely right. They smiled and were pleasant and helpful. The op itself was a local anaesthetic job and apart from a fair bit of pushing and pulling, was dead easy, but sadly they hadn’t provided a mirror so that I could watch. Kim was nervous all day and predictably I had done my "just popping out for a bit of surgery – back in a few minutes" bit. I’m pretty sure that these meds don’t chop you about for a laugh so as they don’t hurt you and are normally doing stuff to make you live longer I think they are a pretty worthwhile bunch.

Woke up this morning feeling – difficult to describe really – you know that odd sensation you get when someone drives a fork lift truck into your chest at high speed? – well it’s a bit like that. The other me is dealing with it quite well though and the happy me is just sitting with a coffee at the PC.

I wish there was someone I could have an argument with because I’m dying to use a phrase I found recently;- Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem (In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags.)