Monday, 21 February 2011

Public Servants II

Last night we had to go to hospital. Thank God everything is OK (or at least on the mend) but the contrast between this (in Yorkshire) experience and the last one (in London) was profound. My wife was disconcerted this time around. Not becuase anything bad happened but because they were so nice. In London we weren't so much greeted as grudgingly ordered to sit on a plastic chair next to a constantly used (and less than sweet smelling) toilet. The woman in charge had a snarl and grimace that would ensure a job as a child catcher or troll should the East London NHS trust decide she's surplus to requirements in the next round of cuts. I would never wish redundancy on anyone but this woman was so rude part of me at least felt unkind thoughts. Couple that with the dank cellar (or 'consulting room' as they called it) and the very ill people looking out of hollow eyes from trolleys in corridors and the signs that say 'wash your hands you bastard' or words to that effect) and =you get a picture of the rough end of modern healthcare in the UK. Basically more grave than cradling.   In Halifax they were shiny, pleasant, re-assuring and informative. The treatment was fast and effective. We couldn;t have asked for more. As we left my wife said :" If that woman had been any friendler I'd have punched her face in."

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