Dear State Hospital CEOs, Minister of Health
I feel such a fool. I thought that the point of a hospital visit was to consult with a medical practitioner.
After many stimulating visits to one of your fine state hospitals, I am a wiser man. I now know that we (South Africa) lead the world in the discovery of the importance of files in modern medicine. Most of our considerable time waiting around in these cheerful surroundings is dedicated to the Great File Hunt. This is how it usually works:
At six am or earlier, you make your way into the great hall of files. The hall is already packed with eager people, hiding their optimism and joire de vivre behind blank, tired expressions. When the clerks arrive, you shuffle from seat to seat, until you have the great, good fortune to appear before a godlike clerk who hands you a receipt. This precious scrap of paper entitles you to join the queue for files. On a good day, the queue moves with agonizing slowness. On a bad day, the queues, (sometimes a second queue materializes), disintegrate and it's every man for himself. You hand in your scrap of paper.
Now, a truly exciting, tense passage of play. Names are called and the fortunate ones receive their bulky, shabby files in battered, brown covers. Exciting and tense because this questions flashes through one's mind:
"Will my file be found?"
In this particular hospital, files are not the docile, obedient bundles that one may find elsewhere. Here, they are mischievous, cunning creatures that go into hiding almost daily. They probably wait for the moment that the clerks leave for the day, then jump to their devilish game of hide and seek. I have spent several fruitful hours, dashing between departments, trying to track files down. The mental and physical health benefits are probably enormous.
On one occasion, a helpful clerk asked me for the date of the patient's last visit. As I take different patients to the hospital daily, I could not remember.
"You must remember the date", said the clerk sternly.
I then saw clearly how all of this was my fault. Dear patients, please avoid adding to the enormous stress burden of our harried hospital clerks. Theirs is a complex task, requiring great skill and nerves of stainless steel. This may well be why a smile never lurks anywhere near their lips. Also why they need to communicate in abrupt, hurried bursts. Perfectly understandable.
Know-it-alls may argue that there are far more efficient ways to store and share information. How dare they question processes that have been used for ages? And take ages to work through. This is the Great South African way of life that keeps armies of bureaucrats, clerks and others gainfully employed. And you and I on our toes. Who knows how those golden hours spent in queues and polishing seats with our bottoms might otherwise be wasted in the trivial business of making a living.
Musk warned against artificial intelligence. In the good old days, files just lay wherever they'd been placed. Now, with AI, who knows what's going on once the humans have gone home. It's a devilishly complex business.
Of course, once you have your precious file, many more queues and hours may await you, but who cares? The critical first phase of your healing has been accomplished.
The name of the hospital? I'm no fool. I don't want thousands of eager patients from far and wide descending on our model of efficiency and compassionate service. Nameless it shall remain.
There's a classic twist. I wrote this article while waiting in the pharmacy; blessed last stop before one gratefully departs the place of compassion and healing. I never seem to learn. It had been far too easy up to then.
My patient noticed that some of his medication was missing. There was no script for that medication, said the pharmacist. After an exchange of several angry words, punctuated with nautical terms, we stumbled on the key to the medical mystery. On a previous visit, the patient's file had gone walkabout. A new file was put together. During the current visit, the 'old' file had magically reappeared. The script in question was in the 'new' file, which the clerks, bless their hearts, had not incorporated into the original file. Why should they? Why make things too easy for patients?
Yours in the struggle to marry modern technology with caring, compassionate service.
Richard
Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted
Capitec Bank, South Africa
1378565477
O Tichmann
+27 833970723
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