I had to make sure I was on Ward 22 by 9.15 at the latest because Carol was booked to have an appointment at the ophthalmology department within the hospital at 9.30 this morning. We weren't entirely sure whether she had to walk there under her own steam or wait for a porter to come and take her in a wheelchair. As she's not entirely steady on her feet at the moment, it would seem more sensible for her to use a wheelchair. When there was no sign of porter or wheelchair as the time ticked by, I went to the ward reception desk and enquired. It's never clear whether the porter is booked at the same time as the appointment. Having been a Support Worker and carer, I would have had to make sure that such assistance was booked in advance.
Time ticked by and no porter arrived, with or without a wheelchair. Then, out of the blue, a porter and wheelchair appeared. It was almost 10 o'clock. I think it doesn't matter about time if you're a patient using these clinics within the hospital. Carol was whisked away and we went through the 'secret portal' which only staff can access which is a sort of bridge between Ward 22 and the rest of the hospital. We came out in a familiar corridor and got to the ophthalmology department, which seemed familiar as I think Carol had an appointment in there a couple of years ago. I seem to remember it had these huge yellow and black signs up, no doubt made large enough for those with vision problems to be able to see. If not, for a child with a small level of intelligence to be able to read and understand. We signed in at reception and Carol was very quickly seen by one of the staff who did several tests on her eyes, the old fashioned test with the letters which start large and as they go down they get smaller and smaller. Then the lady used some sort of sensor device, looking a bit like a sort of weapon from Doctor Who or one of the Star Wars films, to measure the pressure in each of Carol's eyes. She couldn't get it to work so had to ask a colleague.to help her to use it. Then she got Carol to do a colour test. I think I've done one of these at some time or other. It's in a book, with sort of mosaics of coloured blobs and there is a number hidden within these coloured blobs. Carol had no problem with this test.
Then we were thrust out into the waiting area. Packed in like sardines. A sort of game of musical chairs. People doing their best to avoid eye contact with anyone (ironic as this is an eye clinic.) Those huge yellow and black signs seem to dominate the scenery. The a very smiley lady appears and Carol is whisked off and into another room for another test. Not sure what it is exactly, but it's over very fast. We come out and have to sit further away from the reception area. Signs on a door somewhat odd saying 'Male- vacant- Female- engaged. Most likely toilets, but it's not clear. Are the men vacant and the women engaged, to be married? Vacant men, as in, somewhat empty-headed? To unintelligent? Totally without any sense? Just somewhat ironic what you can read from such a couple of signs. They have signs on some of the clinic doors which say open and closed at the same time, with a sort of slide thing that blanks out the word when you move it across, but they don't bother to slide this across, so you get 'engaged and vacant at the same time, so you don't know which room is open, vacant, engaged or whatever, which makes the sign pointless and slightly confusing.
Carol is being fast-tracked through the system this morning. It's so she can be back on the ward quicker. I think if you were an ordinary member of the public you cold be sitting here most of the day. The excitement is too much, the boredom far too stimulating for your brain. A television screen on or some music would alleviate the boredom, or even a coffee and tea machine might help, but none of these. People on their mobiles. What would happen if the whole network collapses? What did people do before there were mobiles? I was driving towards either the hospital or Ashfield Medical Centre the other morning, and I saw this youth crossing the road. It seems crazy to cross any of the grid roads around Milton Keynes because most are extremely busy. It's dangerous at the best of times, but at that time of day, probably around 8 a.m. to 8.45, during the mad peak when people are either going to work or school. There are bridges and underpasses so you've no reason to cross a carriageway. But this individual was busily fiddling with his mobile phone. I've walked around the shopping centre with people doing this and almost run into me. Just put the things away and concentrate on the world around you. You might actually miss something, or worse, get run over and killed by a car or lorry.
Anyway, Carol was eventually seen by a doctor, who said her eye problems were cause by cataracts and she would need glasses.
So, having gone back to the reception desk and handed over the yellow form to the receptionist so that Carol's notes could be updated on the system, she got back into the wheelchair and was pushed back to the ward by another porter.
Then we were thrust out into the waiting area. Packed in like sardines. A sort of game of musical chairs. People doing their best to avoid eye contact with anyone (ironic as this is an eye clinic.) Those huge yellow and black signs seem to dominate the scenery. The a very smiley lady appears and Carol is whisked off and into another room for another test. Not sure what it is exactly, but it's over very fast. We come out and have to sit further away from the reception area. Signs on a door somewhat odd saying 'Male- vacant- Female- engaged. Most likely toilets, but it's not clear. Are the men vacant and the women engaged, to be married? Vacant men, as in, somewhat empty-headed? To unintelligent? Totally without any sense? Just somewhat ironic what you can read from such a couple of signs. They have signs on some of the clinic doors which say open and closed at the same time, with a sort of slide thing that blanks out the word when you move it across, but they don't bother to slide this across, so you get 'engaged and vacant at the same time, so you don't know which room is open, vacant, engaged or whatever, which makes the sign pointless and slightly confusing.
Carol is being fast-tracked through the system this morning. It's so she can be back on the ward quicker. I think if you were an ordinary member of the public you cold be sitting here most of the day. The excitement is too much, the boredom far too stimulating for your brain. A television screen on or some music would alleviate the boredom, or even a coffee and tea machine might help, but none of these. People on their mobiles. What would happen if the whole network collapses? What did people do before there were mobiles? I was driving towards either the hospital or Ashfield Medical Centre the other morning, and I saw this youth crossing the road. It seems crazy to cross any of the grid roads around Milton Keynes because most are extremely busy. It's dangerous at the best of times, but at that time of day, probably around 8 a.m. to 8.45, during the mad peak when people are either going to work or school. There are bridges and underpasses so you've no reason to cross a carriageway. But this individual was busily fiddling with his mobile phone. I've walked around the shopping centre with people doing this and almost run into me. Just put the things away and concentrate on the world around you. You might actually miss something, or worse, get run over and killed by a car or lorry.
Anyway, Carol was eventually seen by a doctor, who said her eye problems were cause by cataracts and she would need glasses.
So, having gone back to the reception desk and handed over the yellow form to the receptionist so that Carol's notes could be updated on the system, she got back into the wheelchair and was pushed back to the ward by another porter.
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