Left Flank, Left Waiting
You know you’re in trouble when your infection has more NHS mileage than your car. Four months of festering on the left flank, finally a referral… only to be told the waiting list is full. So now I’m on the waiting list for the waiting list. That’s right — a purgatory queue for the actual queue. Somewhere in the bowels of the system, a bored administrator probably rubber-stamped that nonsense with a straight face.
Rocks on Tour
And just to keep things spicy, it turns out my kidney stones—yes, plural—have been left to do as they please. One, the one that is holidaying in my ureter, has now grown to 8mm, the other is 9mm and making a determined break for freedom. The stuck one should have been lasered over a year ago; actually, both of them should have been lasered, but instead, they have been left to marinate while the hospital played hide and seek with my notes. At this rate, I won’t need a urologist — I’ll need a demolition crew.
Not so much “joined-up care” as “thrown in a drawer and forgotten.” At this point, I’m half expecting them to hand me a loyalty card: Collect 9 delays and your 10th procedure gets a callback — maybe.
This isn’t healthcare. It’s a tragicomedy — and I’ve been cast as the walking punchline.