A Brave Soldier Goes To St. Richard's Hospital In Chichester All By Himself.

Okay, okay, I hear you!
I'll go to the clinic.

Here I am at Bognor Regis railway station waiting for a train:

There's a happy sunshine smile.

I arrive in Chichester:

If only I had the Latin.

The second sign I see annoys me:

Bollocks on stilts!

The third sign I see amuses me no end:

Here's a clue, they don't use cheese.

I enter the big white building (handy description) at St. Richard's Hospital:

The Big White Building

Most of the people I've met that have lived in this area all their lives call St. Richard's "Dirty Dick's".

To be fair the hospital has had it's hygiene problems, but I'm sure that's all in the past now.

Welcome to the waiting area:

Hmmm, purple chairs.

I am not the youngest patient in the waiting area.

That guy sat in front of me is, but he's soon gone and I become the youngest person in the place.

The majority of the other patients are men who obviously have their clothes bought for them.

The overall colour is beige.

My eyesight is tested again and then I'm called into an examination room by the friendly young Doctor N. who has a smile about two feet wide.

I am asked lots of questions about my condition which I answer carefully as English is not friendly young Doctor N's first language and I'm anxious that he doesn't misunderstand anything I say.

My head is introduced to a frame and the bright lights are applied.

This takes a long time and begins to hurt a bit.

Another doctor enters the room and begins questioning friendly young Doctor N.

This is Doctor F. and his is the boss an' no mistake.

Doctor F. interrogates the young doctor in a sharp and matter-of-fact manner as to what's he's discovered about my condition.

Then Doctor F. asks Doctor N a question, Doctor N asks me the question, I answer Doctor N. who then tells Doctor F. what I have said.

Which annoys me.

Drops are put in my eyes and I'm sent back to the waiting area until my pupils dilate:

I escape to the toilet for a bit of piece and quiet:

I can see for miles and miles

Some time later I'm called back to the examination room.

The whole head-in-a-frame-bright-light business is repeated, first by friendly young Doctor N then by Doctor F.

Then Doctor F. speaks directly to me.

"Well, I think a course of steroids and a scan perhaps".

Then I speak to Doctor F.

"I was told at Worthing on Tuesday that I had an inflamed optic nerve which I now understand is Optic Neuritis".

Doctor F. "Yes, that's what you have."

Me "You'll understand then why my blood runs a little cold when I read that Optic Neuritis is linked to MS."

Doctor F. "Oh, you're a bit old to be presenting MS."

Me: "This is the third nerve related episode I've had in the last 18 months".

Doctor F.: Hmmmm....
Doctor F. turns to Doctor N. and says "Never mention MS to patients as it may have implications for their insurance".

He then writes URGENT on the bottom of the MRI scan request document and tells me to take it to the  X-ray dept.

My pupils are still dilated to the size of saucers, fortunately I have my shades with me and stumble along several corridors squinting at the signs until I find the X-ray dept reception desk.

The cherrie young receptionist takes my form and tells me they'll write to me very soon.

I leave the hospital.

On the train, my mind somewhat more focused than my eyes I decide I'm glad I listened to all the advice I've been given in the comments on this blog and the barrage of emails I received and Linda's incessant nagging and actually attended the appointment:

Stage one completed

Sadly I'm unable to take my shades off as I appear to be wearing orange eye-shadow.