INTERIOR – SITTING ROOM AT WINDYRIDGE
Sergeant Bassett and Hawkins playing chess.
HAWKINS
What am I to do?………Wait a minute, of course, that’s what I’ll do.
Moves pawn forward. (Note: He is not thinking about chess)
A point in a scene from the film, The Green Man (1956) with Alastair Sim, Cyril Chamberlain, George Cole, Jill Adams, Colin Gordon, Terry-Thomas, Dora Bryan, Raymond Huntley, Eileen Moore, Avril Angers, John Chandos and other assorted wonderful actors including Vivien Wood, Marie Burke and Lucy Griffiths as the extraordinary trio in the lounge of The Green Man at New Cliffe run by Landlord Arthur Brough. George Cole’s character is called William Blake and Terry-Thomas plays Charles Boughtflower. A film well worth digging out and watching again.
As to the question and sentiment “What am I to do?”, this is something we ask ourselves every morning on waking. This is sometimes followed by a kind of eureka moment with “Of course, that’s what I’ll do”, although, more often, it is followed by an extended period of indecision and unease. One might think one lives in a perpetual state of unease.
Given the current state of the world, “What am I to do?” is a question hanging over our heads. It applies in all areas of our life, particularly as one gets older. One is no longer wanted in the workplace, and one’s ailments are in the main so routine, that they are brushed aside as quickly as possible by the receptionists and other support staff within local surgeries and hospitals. There is no question that they are polite and express a desire to be helpful. For the most part, they are extremely helpful with patients, if a bit brusque at times. They tend to admonish and treat the patients they consider elderly as children. They forget that none of us want to be patients at all.
There are medical conditions that spring up in the course of any human life. Conditions that are not desired or hoped for. One does not expect any of these conditions to occur, although some may be inevitable, they are not anticipated or prepared for. One gets a flu shot or other vaccinations to prevent disease, but there are certain bodily functions for which there is no vaccination. There is medication to ease the symptoms or pain, but, as yet, there is no cure for cancer nor any medication that will prevent it from occurring. It is difficult to predict or plan for an enlarged prostate. It does not happen to everyone; but, again these are medical conditions that no one wants or plans to acquire. Maybe there are people who enjoy going to see their doctor or being referred to a consultant at a hospital, but I do not know many such persons. The majority want nothing to do with them.
The fact that things happen and we have to place ourselves in the hands of the NHS is not part of the life plan. That they are there is utterly brilliant. That, given the numbers they have to deal with, they are an amazing service to the public. Their achievements are legendary, but occasionally the system fails, they are, after all, only human. The patients are also only human, and sometimes frustration sets in when things seem to go awry. Simple misunderstandings can cause consternation and upset, which helps no one and leaves both medical staff and patient with that question in the air “What am I to do?”.
We all long for that eureka moment when a performative act leads to pain relief, a condition cured or a situation resolved. Somehow it is what we expect our medical practitioners to perform each time we see or speak with them. Not only are we reassured but are also cured and signed off as “treatment completed”. Nature does not allow for this to happen on any regular basis. For the most part, our medical staff can only offer reassurance. They can hold our hands and console us. They can be empathetic and caring. Every now and again they can be triumphant. Eureka.
I am on the whole very pleased with my local practice and my local GP, but there are times when I am left with “What am I to do?”. Some of my friends are not at all fully operational. Due to a variety of ailments and complications, some have restricted movement, diminished ability to communicate and consequently required additional assistance at their homes. This is only possible through a system of social care beyond the local surgery or hospital. It is all part and parcel of the same health service. Their condition must lead to a greater or lesser degree of frustration that affects their carers and family. It is, in a way, inevitable. It is hoped that, with the assistance of these carers, physio and speech therapists, they will be able, at some point, to resume what for them was normal movement and better communications. It is hoped. One can only offer support. What else can we do?
To grin and bear it comes to
mind. Of course that’s what I’ll do. I guess I’ll be doing that for the rest of
my life, and in view of what’s gone on up until now, probably not for very much
longer. Tee hee.
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