This is a bit personal, and it’s real, but I have permission from Boadicea to publish it. So delicate flowers should perhaps read no further …
He was a dynamic young chap in his spotless scrub-suit and plastic boots, all flowing hair and beaming smile; about 35 or very possibly younger. He bounded towards me with his hand outstretched.
“Hello Bearsy,” he said with a wicked grin. “I have to say you look a whole lot better than the last time I saw you.”
We moved into the inner sanctum as he explained that he had been the lead surgeon of the team that had saved me from certain, imminent death. He was excited and delighted to find that not only was I still alive, but that I could speak, think and move around with no limitations other than poor sight in one eye. I said, “Thank you. Thank you for saving my life.” What else could I say? I meant every word of it.
We moved swiftly on to a comprehensive and highly professional interview, during which he investigated everything I mentioned, explained it to the best of his ability where he could and confessed ignorance about those things that came under the heading of ‘we just don’t know’. No bullshit, no spin; just the unvarnished truth. He also explained the additional tests he wanted me to undergo over the next few weeks, what they might reveal and their impact on my prognosis.
When he’d finished, he asked me to wait while he fetched his boss, the top consultant neurosurgeon who had oversight of my case. That celestial being bounced into the room like an enthusiastic middle-aged hippy, but when she spoke her obvious competence was stamped into every quiet word. She remembered me, and Boadicea, and answered our few remaining questions with an authority born of great experience. What a woman!
So, while there were a few aspects where the answers we received were not as positive as we would have liked, there was no doubt that this team regarded me as a real person (rather than a file of case notes) and were going to do their damnedest to keep me happily on my twig. Phew! 🙄
Boadicea's Chariot 
I more or less know how you feel.
I’ve had nothing but outstanding care and professionalism with my few encounters with our hospitals, surgeons and nurses, angels every one of them.
The acid test of course will be the 5 day tests, not this boring drivel currently being dished up in the Eng / WI series but when the Proteas visit Eng next month, 5 days of test cricket, that should test your faculties 😉
I am very glad your medical team was able to inspire in you such a gratitude and confidence. A rare ability these days. An ex Zim friend of mine who lives in Queensland had a serious head injury a couple of years ago as result of rolling his tractor! His wife could not praise highly enough the treatment they both received from the Brisbane medical staff.
As an aside, I note though that you used a capital ‘S’ for saviour. Your surgeon must have been really good. 🙂
Incidentally, I now have an Australian great niece. So no divided loyalties in store for the Ashes or RWC, but possibly Olympic Swimming!
Congratulations on the new addition, Sipu! 😆
One of the most reassuring things said to me in hospital was from a nurse who simply said “We’ll sort it.” She stood at the end of a trolley on which I lay, and squeezed one of my toes. Simple innit?
Last year I wrote to Barts Hospital to reflect on that moment and to praise their staff in the ENT department where I am a regular visitor as an outpatient with chronic ear infection and loss of hearing. I wrote to the Chief Executive asking that my letter be shown to the current team, especially the consultant and also to the Emergency Clinic Manager who attend to me every 3 or 4 months. I did get a very nice letter back from the Chief Exec. and when I visited the clinic some months later the Clinic Manager said he was given a copy of my letter which he had felt like framing. But instead he carries it around with him!
PS Bearsy, surgeons are usually stereotyped in the James Robertson Justice mould. It is nice to see one or two “bounding” along. And so uplifting to have them greet you as you describe. I agree ‘honesty’ is a fine and useful tool for building trust between patient and physician. Well done mate and keep taking the sunshine.
I had one or two problems with some of the hospital’s decisions – and, being me, I made my concerns known at the time. Thank heavens I was taught how to be ‘assertive’ without being rude!
I have nothing but praise for the medical staff, who were brutally honest, and yet still able to give me ‘hope’ for a favourable outcome. It’s a far cry from the time when physicians thought it best to keep their patients ignorant. Ignorance is most definitely not bliss.
I just loved the way that today the surgeon initially addressed his comments to me and then, as he realised that Bearsy was more than capable of answering for himself, concentrated his remarks to him!
I can imagine Bearsy’s response if you had been asked, “Does he take sugar?” !
I don’t think you know how lucky you were!
Had this happened in the UK it would have been far more a game of Russian roulette, or, far more likely, a choosing of the urn!
Glad all is as well as to be expected.
Thank goodness for Boadicea’s speedy reaction and the expertise and professionalism of your medical team.
You are a very lucky Bear, but I suspect you know that. I’m sure the whole experience was exceedingly traumatic for you both, but it ended well, and all things considered, you are sounding pretty much back on form.
I’m delighted to hear it, and I’m not surprised you feel the need to acknowledge your gratitude for the care you received.
More to the point, I can imagine Boadicea’s own response to the question.
Keep on going from strength to strength in your recovery, Bearsy, We all expect nothing less.
I presume, of course, that you will be delighted, if only for old time’s sake, when England thrash the Proteas in the forthcoming Test series?
May your twig grow ever stronger.
OZ