Yet another NHS system designed to make you go mad.
Don’t get me wrong, the NHS is a marvellous system and without it I’d have probably bankrupted my parents before I reached aged 18, being the clumsy pillock that I am. But sometimes you come across NHS procedures or systems that are designed specifically to make you so angry and frustrated that you go away and leave them alone, thereby saving the NHS some much-needed cash. One of these systems is the appointments system and anyone who has had to deal with this will know exactly what I mean.
The problem was this – at the last eye clinic appointment I went to, the eye was still infected and the little consultant man wanted me to come back in a week for yet another 3 hours of quality waiting room time and another eye check. In the meantime I was to keep putting in the eye drops and eye cream. I informed him that I would be abroad then so he agreed to make it two weeks, which would leave me with an appointment tomorrow. Fine. It would be posted out to me. Lovely. Except that this is clearly far too complex a matter for an organisation with a budget of billions and more staff than virtually any other government funded department because when I opened the post on my return from the airport yesterday (Thursday), it seems that I’d been sent an appointment for the day before, Wednesday, when I’d told the guy I was abroad. The letter said that if I didn’t turn up for my appointment I’d be automatically discharged so I wanted to get it sorted but a quick ring round the secretaries I got diverted to assured me that the old system of never employing a consultant’s secretary that works past midday still holds true so nothing could be done until today.
Which is when the fun really started.
I finally managed to get hold of Mr Turner’s secretary who was none too pleased to hear from me.
“Why did they put you through to me?”
“No idea, I assumed you’d know that.”
“Well I don’t. You want Mr S’s secretary. So I’ll put you through to her”.
Fine. Except that Mr S’s secretary wasn’t exactly helpful either.
“Why have they put you through to me?” (anyone else spotting a pattern)
“Probably because I’m down for Mr S’s clinic at a guess”
Massive snort down the phone
“Well I don’t deal with people who have missed their appointments. That’s what the outpatients booking system is for, so I suggest you speak to them.”
“I did. They put me through to Mr Turner’s secretary who put me through to you”.
“Well I can’t help you so you’ll have to ring them back”
Fine you snotty little bitch, I will. “Right then, thanks SO much for your time and effort. Goodbye”
So I did.
Which just made me angry.
“The soonest I can do is September the 13
th
”
“Pardon? I think I misheard you.”
“September 13
th
. In clinic C. Do you want it?”
“But I’ve got an infected eye and I’ve been being treated in clinic F, under a totally different person”.
“Well you’re the one who didn’t bother to turn up for your appointment aren’t you?”
“No, actually I’m not. I’m the one who got an appointment for a time when she’d told the consultant she was in a different country, it’s not the same thing”.
“There nothing in your notes to say you were on holiday”.
“That’s not my fault. I didn’t write them.”
“Well if it’s not in your notes then it’s your fault you got sent the wrong appointment”.
“Fine, well I’ll know for next time to make sure I request to read them before I leave the room, but in the meantime, I need an appointment sooner than that”.
“There’s nothing. Oh hang on, there’s one mid-august.”
“Can I just ask, if last week I could be allocated one in a week, why is there suddenly nothing available for over a month? Has there been a sudden spate of mysterious eye injuries while I was away?”
“Er no, it’s because YOU didn’t turn up for your appointment”.
Now the red mist is beginning to descend, I’m struggling not give the chippy little tart both barrels of my temper and inform her that I’m most impressed with the level of proficiency she’s reached in the ‘NHS Certificate of Being an Unhelpful, Supercilious and Snotty Witch who thinks they are Doing You a Favour by Even Taking Your Call”.
“As I’ve just explained, I didn’t ‘not turn up”.
“Well if you’re not happy you’ll have to go back to the eye A&E and queue again to get seen and get another referral won’t you?”
“Thank you so much for the tip. And if I take the August appointment, what do I do about my medication?”
“What medication?”
“The medication I was given a two week supply of to see me through to the next appointment and that I have to apply to my infected eye 5 times a day to try and heal it.”
“Dunno. I’m outpatients appointments, not my department. You want the nursing staff for that. Do you want this appointment or not?”.
By this time I am struggling not to climb down the telephone and smack the smug twat straight between the eyes.
“Fine, send me the appointment. And can you put me through to the nursing team?”
So she does, and I speak to them, only to be informed that they can do nothing at all to help me and that I’ll have to come into the eye A&E and queue to see a doctor to write me a repeat prescription of the medication that I don’t have enough of because either a consultant or a secretary is too stupid to be able to tell the difference between ‘Wednesday’ and ‘Friday’. Because it’s not like I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed the 12 hours plus of time that I’ve already spent queuing in various departments of the eye hospital is it?
Rest assured, there will be a letter of complaint nestling in the in-tray of the Eye Hospital before the start of next week. And if karma is worth anything, the snotty appointments cow will come back in the next life as a haemorrhoid on the arse of someone unsavoury.
Update: I was in such a bad mood by the time I got home that I had a paddy with the washing machine and kicked the door. Which broke the catch. A man is coming out to look at it on Monday. I'm officially a complete fucking tool.
Recent Comments