Medical Day
Yesterday I saw no less than 3 medicos wishing to clear them all in one day. I started with my first series of vaccinations for a trip to India later in the year. I like my doctor as he is old school, very experienced and optimistic. I won’t see a GP who is rushed and does not maintain eye contact but spends the time peering into the computer. I complimented him on the almost painless injection telling him he reminded me of my dear father who was called “the artist with the needle”. My doc told me that years ago a kid suffering from terminal cancer only would let him inject. The kiddie had a bucket list which included a Concorde trip to the Bay of Biscay. The parents did not enjoy flying so the good doctor was invited.
My next port of call was a top eye man who had given me a new lease of life after improving my vision beyond recognition after 2 cataract operations. I have a 6 month check up to test fields, pressures and glaucoma. These were undertaken by his vivacious wife, once in finance, but now supporting her successful husband’s career as his reputation goes well beyond Sussex for cataract surgery. There is tendency for specialists to become increasingly micro but I’m impressed by the range of my man. He and his wife originate from Taiwan and as I undertook various tests identifying spots of light, or focusing on a cross, conversation turned to the best authentic Chinese restaurants in our city. She kindly recommended one and said she would organise all the ordering of the dishes. I was stupefied that now without glasses I could identify all but the last two bottom lines without glasses. 2 years ago with glasses I could not make out the line necessary to satisfy the vision requirements for driving.
By now the vaccinations were kicking in and I was some £ 500 the poorer. Never mind, all in a good cause. I still had one more consultant to see. This was a recto colon man who operated out of the Nuffield Hospital, Woodingdean. This must be in terms of view one of the most beautiful hospitals in the world as it looks directly over the South Downs to the sea. One of the joys of living here is the proximity of beautiful rolling countryside to the sea. My consultant is the type that would make Daffers weak at the knees, a debonair swish man in his forties. He reminded me of a superb consultant who did much to save my life when I was gravely ill some 15 years ago. One of the traits I appreciated in a consultant is clear exposition and explanation of my condition in this case a stomach hernia. Years of the good life had expanded the stomach applying internal pressure on a lump that had reherniated. I said that I recalled a tight binding mesh had originally be utilised to which he agreed but said the muscles became slack and this created the fresh hernia. My dear father was always adept in spotting the surgeon too quick to operate so I asked for the pros and cons of keyhole surgery. The consultant came down heavily on the con side; complicated and painful procedure, no guarantee of permanent resolution; no pain the moment. Again a big fee for 15 minutes’ work but a less scrupulous man might have charged me less and counselled an operation costing me much much more.
On leaving the Nuffield, a lady rushed up to me with charging leads asking if it was possible that I could help her to jump start her car. People are more obliging down here but I refused because of the delay and I still don’t like to drive in the dark. I felt bad but as I returned to base and witnessed the most glorious pink and blue sunset over the Downs and sea I felt I had made the correct if selfish decision.
