To Boldly Go
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Despite the title, this isn't a blog entry about English grammar and splitting the infinitive. Instead, I thought I'd tell you about my excursion to our local hospital on Monday.
I'm not sure what I was expecting although I was fairly certain that a hospital was the last place I wanted to be heading in the middle of a pandemic. Approaching on foot from a virtually empty car park all seemed quite normal, save for the number of available parking spaces.
The main entrance was unbelievably quiet, so much so that at first I thought I was going to be required to enter by another door. However, I went in as usual and whilst I had expected, as in the G.P.'s surgery at present, to be hit by the smell of disinfectant, it was not the case. A smiling lady (no mask or protective clothing) beamed at me from behind the reception desk and pointed me in the direction of the department.
I passed an eerily quiet and darkened entrance to outpatients, avoided the lift and made my way by the staircase to an upper floor, through push button door after push button door. No trolleys, no porters, no noise; only silence echoing the pitter patter of my summer sandals on the hard floor.
When I reached the department itself, two footprints on the floor marked the place where I was required to stand to confirm my details to an unmasked department secretary who emerged from an adjoining office. A large bottle of hand sanitiser took pride of place on the counter top in front of me and I gratefully used it before taking a seat in the empty waiting room where taped crosses marked chairs that were not to be occupied in order to enforce social distancing. Staff walked through some distance away from me, again unmasked, and I was called to the consulting rooms at the exact time of my appointment.
I was ushered through various rooms, meeting several personnel and encountering more door handles. Their only assurance that I was not infected was simply to ask if I had a cough, fever or any other symptoms. I could understand this from the perspective of the sonographer and consultant, both of whom were in fully protective equipment including a visor. The nurse who checked my height and weight, however, wore disposable gloves and a face mask only; she also divulged that they had not yet been tested in that department. What made me naively think that all Health Care staff are tested repeatedly? Was I feeling guilty or at risk for not wearing a mask of my own? I couldn't decide. Poked, prodded and probed, is that what it feels like to be kidnapped by aliens? It was all a little bit much for the blood pressure and heart rate which I confess hit a mighty 160/90!
Eventually I was free to retrace my steps along those silent, darkened corridors applying hand sanitiser as I left the building to be greeted once again by the bright sunshine outside. Had I really just had a whole hospital and its staff to myself?
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