“Oh God! Why do the ALWAYS show boring drama programmes in here?” lamented the Kevin the teenager standing behind me in the queue at for the reception at the eye clinic. His mum mumbled something to him. I was about to turn around and extol the virtues of Doctors when it was my turn to do my pre-flight checks. One I had finished, Kevin had disappeared.
After my eye check, I was led through to the main waiting area. As always it was packed. Whole families seemed to be there to find out about Nana’s or Grandad’s cataract or glaucoma. On the goggle-box was some weird Australian drama set in the 1960’s. It reminded me of those Australian dramas in the late 80’s like The Sullivan’s and Sons and Daughters were more attention was paid to write a catchy theme tune rather than on any plot.
I was trying to get my head around about what was going on, when a doctor I had never seen before, called me through. I walked in the room and sat down. He sat by the computer and started to read my notes. The door was still wide open. I got up and shut it. I had a bad feeling about this. We sat in silence as he spent a good five minutes reading my notes. Five minutes is a long time to be sat in complete silence. He examined my eye. It was clear he wasn’t happy. He asked me who I had seen in the eye clinic. I listed practically half the doctors in the eye clinic. He frowned, He informed me that the doctor who had closed my eye was in clinic today so maybe it would be better if I saw her. Pass the buck. Nice.
Back to the waiting room I returned. It was now that daytime stalwart Escape to the Country. The budget was £1.5 million. Completely realistic to the patients in the waiting room at the eye clinic. I was midway through being shown a six-bed detached house in Cambridgeshire, complete with indoor and outdoor swimming pool, when I was called through, I have a good relationship with this doc. It’s very professional and she is very efficient in what she does. She wasn’t happy. The ulcer behind the part of my eye that was sewn up, had gone. However, in the part that was exposed, the ulcer was worse. She asked if I was OK if the Prof had a look.
Prof 2 came in. He’s very calm and serene, just what you need in someone who is fiddling with your eye. He had a gander and spoke to medical gobbledegook to my doctor. From my viewings of various medical dramas, I understood snippets. Samples had to be taken for cultures. He left, and the doctor checked if I knew what was going to happen. Vaguely. She clarified by saying that they would be taking samples of the ulcer for testing. They were also going to give me much stronger antibiotics. I would come back in a weeks’ time and if I hadn’t got better, I would be admitted to have antibiotics intravenously. Crikey. We had gone up a notch.
After the samples were taken and I had waited for an hour in pharmacy for the antibiotics, I arrived home to a letter from Prof 1 at the Marsden. He had written to me, my GP and my oncologist to let them know what was happening. He said that it was a pleasure to see me. Could I use that as a reference on my CV, I wondered? He also said the R-word. He said the I was “in remission on maintenance Herceptin”. Yes, I’ll take that.