Self Help

Our local health centre was constucted 10 years ago. Two practices that used to operate out of makeshift, repurposed buildings in the town, with no dedicated parking, combined and moved to the outskirts into this futuristic complex. The local cottage hospital/maternity unit moved out of Victorian premises to the new site at the same time. Reception has cathedral-high ceilings, touch-screen check in, local art on the walls, banks of chairs in wide spaces - like an airport transit lounge

I'm supposed to be called in once a year for routine blood-tests. It is supposed to happen on their initiative in the month of my birthday (early December). Every year, I call 4-6 weeks after my birthday and make the appointment myself; today was the day: 10.50, to see 'Dawn'. Local healthcare, we all know, is under extreme pressure: not enough money; not enough staff; everyone stressed and demoralised; declining indicators; falling life-expectancy; too many people with too many needs, all getting older

I tapped myself in; I obediently positioned myself in the "purple waiting area" (they mean the chairs). Dawn called me in promptly and had three tubes of painless blood within minutes, as well as height (shrinking), weight (growing) and blood pressure (variable). While I was waiting, there were perhaps four other people in the hundred or more available chairs; by the time I left, there may still have been two

The building includes a pharmacy; it was closed with the lights off. There are still stocked shelves inside, but notices stuck on the windows say that it was closed overnight, without notice in December. The internet does not know any more, except that the pharmacy is a different entity to the health centre, but this looks like the classic signs of an unanticipated bankruptcy

I do not understand any of this. Why is a surgery deserted mid-morning on a weekday in a healthcare crisis? Why can't a pharmacy in a health centre thrive? I feel uneasy, vulnerable. Dawn told me that no-one will contact me with results; I should check them myself online, and there might be a note from a doctor. Survival of the geekest

Over winter, the veg boxes we fetch every Friday have been very green - bursting with kale and cabbage, spinach and broccoli. Today there was a little more colour, so I took a 'this is what they look like' picture. Health-care in a box