I’VE had a mischievous lung for a while, a tumour controlled for the time being by a course of immunotherapy.
A recent CT scan showed the impish left lung had not deteriorated but the right had to a certain extent collapsed.
My oncologist apparently sounded like a Dalek with his own ailment, so his registrar phoned me to arrange an X-ray at the RBH asap.
I went along at 10.30 without an appointment on December 28th, waited less than five minutes before I was treated and was driven out of the hospital by my wife before 11am.
I got a call barely two hours later to say on a first view of the X-ray a course of antibiotics was recommended and the prescription would be made up immediately with another CT scan in six weeks’ time.
An hour later I received another call from the hospital, pharmacy this time, to say my prescription was ready - where would I like it to be sent? I said I’ll come and collect. She thanked me, I thanked her and we wished each other a happy rest of the day.
My news channel informs me that the NHS is crumbling and not fit for purpose.
I don’t believe so. At least, not here. Not in our wonderful RBH.
GUY WELLMAN
Guildhill Road, Bournemouth
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