Phone Home

I phoned ahead and explained to Pauline that I was unwell. “Oh, poor thing” she replied, “I’ll get you a doctors appointment and you can go straight there.” It was a relief to be back in the United Kingdom and enroute to the comfort of my family. It always feels good to be with family when you are unwell. Family is big in Ghana; it is even bigger than Fanta. The doctor appointment was relatively swift, but the deed was done and a sample would be prepared for the hospital to check. By swift, I mean the doctoring and not the waiting. Although the waiting was my fault as we operate an appointment system and they had squeezed me in almost unannounced. The receptionist was very kind, and for a brief moment I wondered if she was Ghanaian. I also wondered what it would have been like waiting for the doctor in Africa. Another of those things that we probably take for granted, but in some parts of the World people have to travel vast distances or go without medical attention. The National Health Service (NHS) is often criticized, but it is there when you need it and it is a good base to build upon. You might have to pay or go private, but at least there is immediate attention. Unless of course you are a terminally ill Ghanaian national, then we send you home to die. I could harp on about that event, but this is not a political statement, albeit there is social commentary and comparisons between our two countries. The Doctor’s surgery that I use is a converted Church. Many of the original features still remain. This was a fitting location for my first proper rest in Aberystwyth, given the amount of time that I had spent in church during my short stay in Ghana. I had left the Surgery and was heading home. I already felt better, that was until I got home and the family announced that I looked dreadful.