No I didn’t spell patients wrong, I am talking about being a hospital patient.  Well today I am.  I think I am about to write this post in more than one part, the before and after  operation. (I hope there is an after!)  It is nothing spectacular I am getting done, just routine getting old maintenance. I have decided that when I retire in the next couple of years I am going to be the fittest and healthiest I have been in my life; I intend on being retired for a long, long time!  Plus, I don’t want to be one of those old people who only ever talk about their illness and ailments – I once heard that the health issues of the elderly are often serious, but rarely interesting.  I don’t want to be boring, so I am going to be healthy. It is a minor hernia operation, but I have told people that is just a cover, as I am going in for a penis reduction…. Oh, groan.

In the lead up to arriving today I have completed a series of forms that required every detail of my life, in duplicate and verily witnessed.  I  posted these in prior to arrival for no doubt continuous scrutiny, copying and rubber stamping.  I presume this all must have happened, because when I arrived today the file the receptionist, or admitting nurse, had, was about 6 inches thick. I don’t feel that sick?

I’m glad I filled in all those forms as I got to repeat my name and spell it about 11 times… I got to the point where I thought I was on an episode of ‘candid camera’ or some getting punked show…. or, worse, she thought I was an imposter.  Anyway, I eventually got my wrist identification band, which then immediately had to be cut off and replaced as it didn’t have my middle name.  I assured the nurse I was the only person with that first name and last name in Australia and the other one was a musician in the USA… Did she initially think I was him, I didn’t think he was that famous.

We sat in the nice waiting room, we being my wife and I. My wife had come on the pretext of looking after me but I wanted her there to verify my identity. A short time latter a very nice lady volunteer called Kersti called out my first name, I checked my wrist band, it was me!  She then verified my surname telling me that she wasn’t allowed to call out surnames as it was a breach of privacy – although the nurses were allowed to do it volunteers weren’t.  I told Kersti that I was a bit reluctant to go with her as she wasn’t wearing Hi-Viz (see my post Better with Hi-Viz) and too my relief she immediately got on board and told me all the rules they had to follow, some of which appeared to be just to make things more difficult.

Let me transgress here for a bit. Kersti was a very attractive lady who later told us she was 70 years old. She had been a volunteer at the hospital for 6 years. She made our arrival wonderful. Volunteers…. Most of my life I have not really understood the concept. Kersti was the epitome of the concept. She was doing it to make my world, the new, perhaps often really nervous patient, a better place, to feel welcome and at ease. I am now sitting waiting for my operation, glad that I met her and feeling that little bit happier because I met her. I am glad I noticed her.

Kersti showed us around my room and then with a smile and cheerfulness that still lingers, went onto the next person who she was going to make a difference in their day – I have no doubt, all positive.

I haven’t been to hospital for a while and luckily have private insurance and am in a private hospital. My memory of when I was here a few years ago is that it didn’t look so tired. I don’t listen to the news too much about the state of our medical services, because, I am like everyone else and don’t worry until it affects me and then, I’ll tell you,  it is a bloody disgrace!  Just an observation that a lot of our ‘public’ stuff is looking a bit tired in lots of places and over made up in others. Priorities are no doubt set by the whim of some, the noise of others and the patience (the correct patience) of the rest of us.

I am still glad that I am sitting here, waiting for my operation, which was first diagnosed 8 weeks ago, with a good surgeon, and not like a mate in the public system who is still waiting for his operation 4 years later!

Funnily enough, I am not too nervous. I suppose it it like flying in a plane. We all get a bit nervous, but the odds of anything going wrong, even in today’s bad patch, are still pretty remote. Plus, as I wrote about earlier in the post Better Fathers Day it is amazing that considering the things we did as kids we have survived this long anyhow. I reckon the odds are in my favour that I will pull through.

I suppose, if all does go well, I will be a better man, at least physically anyway. I’ll let you know, hopefully.