This lunchtime, I once again attended the ghost hospital[1]. Dr Pike (whose name I can’t take seriously, because it makes me think of the mad arm waving antics of the scientist and TV presenter Magnus Pyke) had referred me to see the physiotherapists and so it was those guys I was visiting today.

First of all I had to get there. This should have been a simple process, having already attended DDH twice without issue, however the physio department is hidden. A map at the carpark describes the campus, but is oriented, drawn and coloured in such a manner that the normal function of a map, to indicate the layout of a place in a useful manner, is almost entirely destroyed  such that a chap like myself, who can navigate by means of grid references with a 1:50000 Landranger from Ordnance Survey, became quickly lost.

Normally, being lost in an environment such as a hospital would not be a major issue. They are places with many signs, pointing out useful places like X-Ray and the morgue. This is the ghost hospital, however and has signs to Human Resources and the Oakfield Building and no signs to places like Physiotherapy, or the Old Staincliffe Building (in which physiotherapy is located). Added to this, it’s the ghost hospital, so finding someone who one can ask for directions is a challenge. I did, finally, find a live person (I presume live, was out in daylight and not demanding brains) who was able to give me directions. Naturally I was on the complete opposite side of the hospital from where I wanted to be. Grumbling somewhat I headed to the other side.

Arriving at the other side of the hospital, I found another map. This time, it didn’t even have a “you are here” arrow and had faded so the whole thing was in a sort of uniform “off blue” colour. This made it slightly less useful than the previous map, so I didn’t even bother to try interpreting it and instead caught a glimpse of a member of staff scurrying from one building to another, clearly trying not to be seen. I pounced and after a short scuffle had him pinned down[2]. This man was able to inform me that the large building (unlabelled) was the Old Staincliffe building and that Physio was through the door and up the stairs, or maybe down the stairs, in fact there were two physiotherapies and it depended which one I needed.

Finally, after entering the hospital, walking down a corridor (which split into two lanes at one point to accomodate an elevator) and generally becoming more worried I was lost again, I saw a sign pointing upstairs to physio. I had left Batley at 1230, spent 10 minutes driving and finally arrived at the physiotherapy reception at 1259, for my 1300 appointment.

Naturally, despite a room full of desks and computers, it being the ghost hospital, there was only one person present. A lady of a certain age, with a dark and obvious moustache. She asked who I was and I told her, so she consulted her computer. Looking confused she asked for my address, had I any paperwork and so on. Finally she asked me to write down my full name and date of birth, I guess she was hard of hearing for dates and spellings, so I was happy to oblige. She then found me straight away in the system and asked me to take a seat.

This was an interesting part of the hospital, as it appeared to be one of the few places with staff and/or patients. Most of whom where on crutches[3]. In fact, I felt almost healthy as I sat, vaguely entertained by a gentleman with his leg in plaster arguing the toss with the moustache woman about his appointment. I gathered he had missed it and alleged he had “phoned in” and “been told he could come in later”. I also gathered from the tone of his voice that he was a lying toad who hadn’t got out of bed on time. It was shortly after he was sent away with a new appointment that I was summoned by Neil the Physio for my assessment/treatment.

I won’t bother describing all the things that transpired, except to say it involved much prodding poking and stretching in the neck/shoulder area, as you might imagine – that being the area of the pain. After some amount of this, Neil was able to conclude that there was a marked difference in my movement from one side, as compared to the other. He also found differences in the feel of  it and even astonishingly enough managed to find particular movements which specifically caused me more pain[4]. Finally he announced that he believes it is actually a mechanical problem, which he believes he can treat. To that end, he has given me some neck exercises, or rather as he said, “movements really” which will help free up the stuck bits in my lower neck and hopefully start to relieve the pain.

Basically, he is of the opinion that the whole business with my lymphadenopathy[5] and associated worrying about lymphoma and then sarcoidosis has clouded and pushed into the background the initial problem, which was and remains a sore shoulder and I should have seen a physio months ago.

Of course I’ve heard this before, ah yes Mr Morrell, your problem is this and here is what we intend to do[6], but I am actually pretty convinced by this. If nothing else, I guess I have some locked up bits of neck which need a good old loosening. In addition there are some posture issues which need looking at. To that end I have jacked up my monitors on stands[7] to help keep my head looking up.

So far, noone in the office seems to have noticed me doing my silly “movements” which are to be done on an hourly basis. I expect some amount of piss taking when they do. Bless them.

[1] – Dewsbury and District Hospital, see my previous posts for details!
[2] – Well. Shouted “excuse me!” quite loudly, but anyway.
[3] – The patients, not the staff, obviously.
[4] – To state the obvious, this might seem bad, but is incredibly useful for diagnosing the problem.
[5] – Enlarged Lymph nodes. One of these days I’ll have to create some kind of glossary.
[6] – Accompanied usually by poo pooing what other physicians have stated.
[7] – By stands, I mean “things in the office which were tall enough and sturdy enough for monitors to sit on but aren’t actually stands for anything”.