Crisis what crisis?

Yesterday I experienced the bureaucratic mess that has developed in the NHS under the coalition. We have had the same GP practice for the last 20 years and have received a good service. All the doctors there provide good quality care. Yesterday I experienced the latest problem in the administration of the out of hours service. My 91 year old mother was bitten by our dog last Wednesday. We have kept the wounds clean and covered and it was healing until yesterday morning when her hand had swollen overnight. I was concerned that there may be an infection so I called my GP surgery. I was directed to call 111. There had been a Saturday morning surgery so I was surprised. We went to see the pharmacist who also suggested 111 in order to find out the nearest out of hours GP service. What my mother actually needed was to see a nurse practitioner who could determine whether my mother needed antibiotics and could prescribe them.

I dialled 111 and, as we live in Norfolk, was put through to the Norfolk service. The helpful woman took me through a series of questions clearly designed to determine whether my mother was in urgent need of medical attention and concluded, as I had, that she needed an out of hours GP service. When we told her our GP she realised she could not deal with us. We live on the border and our GP is in Suffolk. She said she would fax the details to the Suffolk service who would then contact me. By this time two hours had passed.

A nurse practitioner then rang me after half an hour. He too ascertained that there was no immediate danger but my mother needed to see an out of hours GP. The nearest available was at the West Suffolk hospital. We were given an appointment for 5.30 that evening, seven hours later. We agreed we did not need a GP to visit. If it had been me who was injured I would have kept a close eye on the wounds but would have waited until Monday. I did not feel able to take the risk of infection with someone of 91.

When we arrived at the hospital   we followed the direction provided by the nurse on 111. There were no direction signs in the hospital. A secret service. The corridor was crowded with people. A sign said that we would have to wait 90 minutes. Having driven twenty miles we decided we would wait. There was minimal movement. A young woman sat on the floor holding her abdomen in pain. She complained to her friends “At least in A and E you get to see a nurse to triage you.” She was right. The only triage we had had was at 10.30 that morning and it had been over the telephone.

After an hour and a quarter when only one person had been seen, I went to the desk where a woman holding a tiny baby was being told it would be at least two hours before she could be seen. I was told the same. I discussed with my mother. It was almost 7.00pm , her usual bedtime. Sitting in a corridor for another few hours was unlikely to improve her general wellbeing  so we decided that as the swelling had reduced a little we would keep a close eye on the situation but otherwise wait until she could see the nurse at our local surgery.

I told the receptionist what we are doing and suggested that there was a problem with the system. “Maybe we would have been better coming along this morning without an appointment” I suggested. “No, we only see people with appointments or urgent cases” she said. My mother and I both agreed that her case was not as urgent as others we could see. We drove the twenty miles back home and she went to bed with strict instructions  to wake me if there was any change.