Fight Week

I wanted to call last week an abomination-but that is too strong a term for a week that was just simply horrendous: irritating, frustrating, you name it.

For one thing, Outlook doesn't work. Hotmail doesn't work. Nothing on my computer works-it is simply kaput. And the thing is only three years old, which really gets to me. My old one lasted 12 years. Miracles happen. So now I will have to go to an internet café to do any work-until I can afford a new computer. I should try Apple next time-everyone I've spoken to loves Apple. So-soon.

Last Monday I phoned the transport department at Barts to book transport for a scan I'm having tomorrow. Of course, when I say it was "fight week"-who else would I be fighting but Barts? They have merged and now are called Barts Trust, with six hospitals involved. Different name, but still a pile of crap, and last week proved it. Spectacularly.

The short version is that I called the transport number and was diverted to some voice messaging service that told me I am not registered for transport. I've been taking hospital transport since the gentamicin debacle, and I keep using it because I don't want to be exposed to the diseases that are prevalent in East London-particularly tuberculosis. It has been an epidemic for too many years to mention. I'll get into the whys and wherefores another time. I did promise the short version!

I ended up calling everyone I could think of just to find out what was happening. West One Cars is the car service that has handled my transport for nearly four years-and West One was sub-contracted to a company called Carillion. The Friday before last, Carillion lost the contract with Barts, and West One was no longer sub-contracted by Carillion. What makes this so interesting is that nobody at any of the hospitals knew this. Nobody. West One was informed at 5pm on the Friday, and some bunch of cowboys called ERS transport took over on Saturday-without telling anyone.

Last Monday, dozens of patients were left without any transport: patients who were do to be admitted as inpatients, patients who were due for tests, or clinics, and patients who were supposed to be discharged were all left wondering what had happened. What spectacular idiocy is that!

I rang my contact at West One and was told about the contract takeover, and I then rang the immunology people-who were completely surprised. They actually thanked me for telling them. Amazing-because it is easier to find hen's teeth than to get any kind of gratitude from anyone at the immunology department.

So, my week was spent trying to organize transport for tomorrow. On Wednesday I sat and was on hold (don't you hate being on hold) for a solid hour before I was able to book my car for tomorrow. It took another 30 minutes to do a simple booking-because all the information had to be input manually. Apparently, ERS had no information on any patients. But - I still wasn't satisfied.

In the middle of all this torture, I started going back to the gym-so I was happy about that. Happy-and sore, too. I was supposed to get a delivery of immunoglobulin on Friday, and Bupa screwed that up. too. So you can see that everything went wrong last week-on Friday I was ready to scream.

Yesterday I sent an email to the CEO of Barts-and within an hour someone else rang me to apologize for the cock-up. I was told that it was all resolved, and I would have a car tomorrow. So when he hung up, I called Nick over at West One. Good thing I did-because nothing had been done at all. Apparently someone had put all my details on a piece of paper-and lost the paper. So-Nick sorted it all out. If I hadn't called him, if I hadn't been persistent, I would be twiddling my thumbs tomorrow and miss my appointment altogether.

And that was my week. I could easily take up drinking, that is how frustrating I felt. As for my laptop-I might just give it a good kicking!!