NHS Complaint to Bromsgrove MIU

NHS Complaint to Bromsgrove MIU

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The online feedback form I left on the NHS website should pretty much explain this one.

My answer to the question before, “What could be done to improve your visit for next time?” was: Get the nurse to wind her neck in.

“How likely would you be to recommend our service to friends and family?”

Very unlikely.

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“Please tell us why you gave that answer?”

Oh, ok then… *takes a deep breath*

I was told to go to x-ray and MIU by my GP with a suspected wrist/scaphoid injury following a racing car crash a week ago, where my open wheeled car had collided with another car, torquing my hands around with the steering wheel (and launching me 3ft in the air before another heavy landing, if you want all the exciting details).

The x-rays thankfully showed no fractures, and I dutifully booked in to MIU as advised. I do not like hospitals or doctors, hence me having waited a week in considerable pain from my injuries, but was extremely pleasant to all staff, especially after the x-ray as I was happy that nothing was broken. I am aware this pleasantness and cheery attitude may have been interpreted to mean I was not in pain – when in fact I would have rated my pain on this visit at a 7/10.

The student nurse who saw me very quickly advised as it was a soft tissue injury there was likely nothing more that they could do as the preferred method is not to strap up such injuries. This was absolutely fine with me, as was the quite long subsequent wait as she went to seek advice from a nurse. The wait was also fine, as I was by no means a priority case and fully understood others needed staff attention.

A blue uniformed nurse then returned to me pushing a trolley load of attitude before her, making her impatience with me extremely clear as she asked me – yes ME – why I was there. Somewhat confused by this, I told her the GP had told me I should go to MIU after my x-ray. She snapped on about x-ray being the ones who would refer me to MIU – which may well be the case, but I don’t see how I’d become the naughty schoolboy?

After answering “I don’t know?” when she asked what they were supposed to do, she then dug her thumbs into what I believe is known as the ‘snuff box’ area of my wrist.

I’m not sure how she then managed not to notice my hissed intake of breath through bared teeth, but declared instantly that I wasn’t in any pain (Really?? I’d have rated that a good strong 9, thank you very much!!!) before stroppily lecturing me that I would need a serious bone deficiency to have any chance of a scaphoid injury in that type of incident.

If I wasn’t so shocked by this whole damning onslaught, I would have corrected her that it is, in fact, one of the most common injuries of open wheel racing drivers in exactly this type of incident, but still trying to hold onto my relief I thanked her (not even sarcastically, because I’m apparently too polite a person for such hateful interactions!), and left.

Having been very worried when my GP advised scaphoid injuries could cause major complications such as necrosis, I realised I should have been more willing to seek medical advice sooner – but after meeting Blue Nurse from MIU, I’m back to thinking I’d be better off with a staple gun, duct tape, and staying away from corrosive moody people to solve my medical needs.

I am actually sorry for wasting your time, as if I’d known there was no after care I’d have just gone back to work sooner. But I don’t know that – and I feel that it’s the job of Blue Nurse and her ilk to advise me. Nicely.

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Stool Curling

Stool Curling

I don’t get ill very often, but with the onset of old age, when I do get ill these days it’s not a half measure.

So without going into the actual details, I had to see the Doctor the other day – something I try to avoid like, err… the Plague.

Is it just me, or has NOBODY in the last 5-10 years ever been to a doctor and been told exactly what’s wrong with them?

I don’t know anybody.  It’s always “stress” or “a virus”, and no doctor will ever seem to give you a definite answer.  I sometimes wonder if they’re scared of court cases or not even actually qualified?

“Here, have some useless tablets for a bargain £8 that won’t do a thing.  You’re welcome.”

I’ve been lucky in my 36 years to have never had anything seriously wrong with me – but this time was about to be a new experience.

They wanted a blood test and a ‘stool sample’.

I’ve done well to get this far into life without it.  I guess the next milestone will be a vet shoving his arm up my arse to play dolly with my prostate – don’t expect a blog about that one, though!

He gave me about 30 pages of paper and a plastic container, which I pocketed quickly.

When in the safety of my own home, I had a good look at the stool sample collection device that I had to use.

So it’s a small plastic tube with about a 20mm diameter.  In the screw top lid there was a blue plastic spade attached.

Now the questions started.

How the Hell do I actually use it?

I mean, on a base level I know I have to get my poo into there.  But how?  And how much?

I may have been shitting through the eye of a needle sometimes, but my rusty brown eye can’t actually SEE, so how am I going to direct some rusty brown water into a 2cm tube?

I briefly considered fashioning a funnel from paper and duct tape like I do for an oil change on my bike.

This would cut down any chance, of, well, shitting all over my own hand like an angry chimp.

But then what’s the happy blue beach spade for??  Do I get points for my artistic talent if I shape my stool into a castle?  Or build a ‘Shit in a bottle’ for them?

Maybe I should avoid any messy brown accidents and show the spade up my balloon-knot and try and scrape out something of use?

Or do I hold the blue spade under my undercarriage as I drop a bomb and hope to get a good shovel full to spoon into the container?  And if that’s like sticking your tongue out to catch the falling rain, everyone knows more of it lands in your eyes than your mouth.

Are they looking for a pebble or a rock?  What do they even need to do to it?  Should I just crap in a Transformers lunchbox and fill that baby to the brim for them to make their job easier?

Sooo many questions!

Why don’t they teach you this stuff in school???  I’d already have used the knowledge more than Pythagoras’s Theorum!

Eventually I did accomplish the task, and then just had the walk of shame to casually drop my Finger Of Fudge off in the samples box next to the receptionist.

At least it made the blood test seem enjoyable in comparison!