The saga conitnues

I’m currently heading back to Highgate from the centre of town, where I’ve just delivered a parcel, and met Nathan for lunch. We went to Stock Pot on Old Compton Street, which is one of the cheapest eateries in town. In short, you pay pennies, and get served sloppy school diners, which periodically hit the spot, and occasionally end up tasting like the piles of matter that road sweepers scrape off the pavements in city centres on Sunday mornings. Today, fortunately, was a good day. I had some kind of ravioli stuffed with mushrooms, which tasted suspiciously meaty, despite assurances that it was a vegetarian dish. If I’m honest, I don’t really know what meat tastes like, so if my food is sort of smoky, I start to feel a bit funny, because I can’t imagine what’s bringing that particular flavour to the table!


The saga of The Royal National Throat, Nose and Ear Hospital continues to niggle away. Yesterday, I received two rather worrying letters. Firstly, my repeat follow-up appointment has been booked for the one day I told the specialist I couldn’t do. He made a note of the date, and told me he’d avoid it, and yet, when I opened the letter, there it was. When I called the hospital to change the date, they told me I’d have to accept the next available appointment, which was... wait for it... November. Absolute nonsense. And even more ridiculous is that the only way you can change things, is by getting shirty. I stamped my little feet like a toddler, spoke to a manager, and low and behold, the appointment was moved to early August.

The more worrying of the two letters letter came from the “language therapy” department. It was, essentially, a letter to my consultant, which said “thank you for referring this 36 year-old gentleman, who you diagnosed as having a right vocal cyst. I had organised to see him on the 31st May 2011, however, I am writing to inform you that he failed to attend his appointment and therefore we have discharged him from the case load.” The letter was “dictated” by Gary Wood, principal, on June 30th and “typed out” on July 7th.

So much is wrong with this.

Firstly, I never received notification of my appointment. I assume they sent it through the post. If they did, it never arrived. Secondly, why on earth would this Gary Wood leave it 5 weeks before telling the surgeon that he hadn’t seen me - knowing that my operation was in early June? My consultant asked me at my last appointment if I’d heard from a voice therapist, and was concerned and confused when I said I hadn’t. If Wood’s letter had even been sent when it was dictated, it would have reached the consultant before I saw him, and something could have been sorted out. Fourthly, why on earth are letters being sent internally, within the hospital? Surely, an email would have been a much faster and more appropriate method of communication? And finally, why was I booked in for voice therapy before my operation.

I did a bit of phoning around, and discovered some horrifying facts. Apparently, a voice therapy appointment needs to happen before an operation, so that they can give you in depth information about how to protect your voice afterwards. It’s so important, in fact, that sometimes Mr Rubin, the surgeon will actually cancel an operation if he discovers a patient hasn’t been seen by the therapists. If seeing them is that important – why do they rely on the unreliable Royal Mail to inform patients of their appointments? Why don’t they use the telephone to double check? When I was initially given the wrong date for my operation, I found out simply because a nurse phoned to ask why I hadn’t confirmed that I was coming along. I hadn’t received that letter either. So, if it’s hospital procedure to sensibly call a patient who hasn’t confirmed their appointment, why wasn’t I called in this instance? And why did no one ask me if I’d had voice therapy when I came in for my operation? Of course, I’m now terrified that I’ve done something wrong, and potentially wrecked my voice, and frankly, if I have, a rather whopping negligence case might be heading their way! This is not good...

Whinge over! I'm off for a run!

By the way, I just really hurt my teeth getting a new toothbrush out of an impenetrable wrapper! That is an irony!