Procrastination (the thief of time)

I kept saying I would do it, but as each opportunity arose, it equally easily slipped by once more. Each time I had visited the events in the past, to rail once more against the appalling care meted out to J' by the NHS it had hurt. Hurt deeply and profoundly to the extent that I had become ill. But equally well, not to continue down the road was also eroding my well being. The guilt bore down when my thoughts strayed into that place and time I hated so much.

I had not viewed the file for months. It grew dusty from my lack of attention and the day came, when I had at least to check how much time was left, and so I did. As the date came into view my pulse began to race and my chest grew tight. I had only ten days left before the case would be time barred! All thoughts of leaving it any longer fled from my mind. I could not let my love down. I had at least to make some sort of attempt at it, to ensure at least that those who might escape from exposure, from censure, would be made uncomfortable or even heaped with ordure. The experiences of my fellow travellers did nothing to inspire any confidence of success, but at least I had to try. Another windmill to tilt at maybe, but I knew I would have to saddle up the donkey, pick up the lance and travel that road again.

As I went through the protocol from the Ombudsman things got a little difficult. I had to download the forms and hand write the details in capitals! Why could I not fill it in and print and attach the file correspondence? I tried to convert the forms to a format I could use but the software wouldn't load. Vista strikes again! So I filled them in neatly in black capitals and made separate continuation sheets in Word, that way, I could at least print and file. I wrote down all those things that had gone wrong, caused pain and likely lasting harm. I reviewed the case file and entered all that should be done to prevent some other poor soul from enduring the misery and dangers my love had had to. I told them what we wanted to achieve and what we needed to make the future at least less bleak. It seemed so much less than I had wanted. But I had made sure that I was not raising any points not already presented to the Trust as being deficient or dangerous. I had a bibliography of all the studies, all the protocols, all those things that the Institutions of Medicine and Healing say must happen in the treatment of Trauma Orthopaedics. I also determined that in the event of failure, and however much I hated the GMC, and it's show trials of  Doctor's I would take the negligent git who caused all this to their halls. If nothing else it would make him sweat, even if only for a little while.

I copied everything. Neatly bound it and sealed it into an envelope. Knowing time to be ever closing in on me, I sent it by Special and it got there with three days to spare. I had done it! I felt ill for days after, but gradually the bloody IBS subsided a little and the panic in my soul began to wane. The tightness in my chest eased and I started to give up smoking, again! Two days later the acknowledgement arrived, together with a letter stating that an investigation would be made to see if a formal investigation was warranted. I guess they would have to have a meeting, to arrange the meetings, where it would be discussed as well.

So we are in limbo once more. I still feel guilty I left it to the eleventh hour. It hadn't been as difficult as I had imagined, the trauma is not so vivid, quite so painful. The passage of time and the purposeful revisits that became part of the rehabilitation protocol my therapist prescribed, have healed some of the damage. I still avoid the Hospital, although not so much. I can drive by so long as I do not look directly at it. But I am scared of going there; fearful as I get older, that something will mean I will be taken there, or worse my love will. Their hubris is undiminished, their rhetoric intact. They continue to maim and even kill and although I never fail to add my condemnation in any media I can, it becomes tomorrows chip paper or falls off the end of the comments postings. I have resolved that I have to convert, to educate people one by one. I only hope there is enough time left to achieve moderate numbers.