MEDICAL PROCEDURES

It started out as an irregularity
a flittering of the heart
Somewhere on the left
The ventricle started flipping
like a flag in a manic breeze
it woke me up at 6 a.m.
as it had done several times this week and last
and I decided it was time to do something about it.

I made the appointment at Chapel Gate
1045
and bundled into the Getz around 1025
I knew it wasn’t going to take that long
but I thought
“just in case”
I’d better be there early

I hand them the Medicare card
it’s green uniform somewhat soothing
they checked their facts against mine
in the database
and it all seemed to add up-
apart from the post code-
duly amended

I take the seat by the window
looking out at the Dandy road traffic flow
in it relentless push and pull
against the heave-ho of the lights
the obligatory television is yawning
with Kerry -Anne in the corner-
the volume not to high thankfully
and there’s only one other person beside me sitting here
I’m surprised by the lack of magazines on the table
just a couple of local rags and some health magazines
that’s it.
I choose to read nothing.
Above the head of the woman is another screen
full of medical advertising
she’s carrying on a conversation on the mobile phone in a dream
oblivious to the sign just to her right
asking that mobile’s be shut down

The only other sound I can hear is the air conditioner
intruding
blowing,
flowing a seam of air into the chamber where we wait

there’s some quite old men with walking frames
who continuously appear
speaking dialects with which I’m unfamiliar
then I remember the last doctor I saw seemed Russian
or maybe that was Rumanian.

Dr Renata makes an appearance
in a fawn dress and dark brown vest
She seems sort of Eastern block
Is this a collective I wonder?
As we sit she hastily departs –
remembering something for one of the former patients
I sit down to digest her office
pictures of bodies- “signs of obesity”
the cardio vascular system
pictures of somebody hang gliding
and possibly parachuting
I wonder if that’s her
never met her before so I wouldn’t know

I explain the problem when she returns
this fidgeting heart on the left
and also the pains I get
sometimes when I sing
I am wondering if it’s bad technique
but another part of me senses something is growing
A fear of cancer growing in me
and it seems to be getting worse lately
but I rationalize it’s just technique
must REMEMBER to breathe

hopping on the table
the blood pressure machine
wraps itself around my upper arm
and begins to puff automatically
a noose seems to surround me
She mentions it might be a little high
The ‘Blood’ pressure
lie down…
The machine then does a series of tests
over the next couple of minutes
where we both say nothing
and I’m left to listen
to the sound of air conditioning
this time just audible over the rumble
of the Dandenong road noise polution
in reception it was a rumble
here it’s a gargle
but it’s present
after the fourth inflation
the life buoy deflates and she says it’s pretty normal

She pokes about with a stethoscope
marginally chilly
she places it over the spot that’s concerning me
then to the right
down the side and behind
and then to the spot I’m complaining about
where it gets sore
when I’m singing out
she reports
nothing unusual.

We chat again
she mentions yoga
I say “yer, I used to do it one time”
And meditation
but that seems like ten minutes I’m wasting,
but I know it makes me feel more calm
so why is it not a priority
compared to the six other million things I have to do TODAY
can I afford those minutes-
I think the answer is yes
but I lack the discipline
she plies me with forms.

I transit to the nurses upstairs
One blood test
One ECG
Easy
They’ll do the usual test for electrolytes
and cholesterol spikes
And correct blood counts
as usual it will be alright

PATHOLOGY

Uncertain about the procedure
I clamber the stairs to a vacant lobby
no one’s behind the service desk
just me here
no queues
but a better selection of magazines
if I should choose to indulge
I sit down in the chair closest to the desk
to receive the maximum attention
and flip through the documents I need to hand in
there’s a number of hospitals and clinics
where I can have other things performed
I’ll need to go to a different one
for the heart rate monitor

I wonder if there’s a bell
it seems very vacant
and indeed I find one
a push button
with tiny red light on
I push and hear nothing
and take a number to secure my place
in the system
Still no-one
and then a young nurse appears
but I am ignored
other people start to drift in
with that same uncertain look on their features
they haven’t seen the sign saying
‘take the numbers’
I don’t know how important it is
so I say nothing
another of the elderly Russians appears out of the lift
walking frames his way to the desk where she explains
he needs to take a number
the others don’t hear, so,
theoretically he’s after me
I never get to see the outcome
because my number is called
and I become installed in a small cubicle.

The air-conditioning here has a roar
it’s competing with 5 or six other
whirring and clicking things
devices for spinning blood
and taking it
Something that hums continuously
There’s a bench to lie on for certain procedures
The light is overly bright
like it’s heaven on steroids
ultra fluorescent

The chap doing my blood
is very vigilant
even though it’s written clearly on the print out
every fact is checked
within an ounce of its life
name
Date of birth
address
phone number
I’m glancing over and realise the post code is wrong
Not 3166
3181
he corrects
finds some bottles
adds some labels
and codes for tracking
and we’re ready to go again

A strap constricts my bicep
a tiny prick near the join
the blood runs free into the tube
it’s thicker and darker than I imagine
soon it’ll be in some machine
spinning and separating
and relaying all the information I may or may not want to hear
Dr Renata will know within two working days.

The second procedure for today is a base line ECG.
“Top off, and socks below the ankles please”
12 tiny blue dots sucker themselves
on various parts of my body
then an octopus of wires come out
and cleverly limpet themselves onto the suckers
in thirty to fourty seconds
it’s done all its readings
which apparently are transmitted electronically
immediately
but of course there’s a problem with the technology
which is no concern of mine
I dress and leave it all behind
the fidgeting valve is still playing hockey

XRAY

Just to make sure
to allay my fear
It’s time for the X-Ray
down to ‘The Avenue’ Hospital
It’s madness at radiology
there’s five or more people
all vying for attention
so I wait my turn at the back of the queue,
I shuffle through the line
paying or making appointments
I hand them my dockets
“just go to the waiting room”

Channel nine news is on the overhead TV
the finance report and something about Ferrari getting out of sport
What!
No Ferrari in formula one!
an unthinkable suggestion
People in this waiting room
kind of look sicker
than any of the others I’ve seen
and yep ,
there’s that air conditioning
quite pronounced
as if its an extraction fan for deep fryers
my name is called..

Not sure if I heard right
thought she said
“remove everything above the waste”
I’m in a tiny cubicle
with artificial light
just enough room to stretch you arms
and there’s these gowns
one discarded by a former occupant
did he get out OK?
I try one on
Are the ties at the front?
Hmmmm I wonder
I try it the other way round
this pristine bleached uniform
but how will I do it up I wonder
so ties at the front.
I emerge and ask
she says other way round,
back I go to ensuring it is now the right way round
I exit the cubicle
And no-one seems available
for a few minutes
then she sees me
and in a school teacher way
tells me to go back to the cubicle
not much to do in here I think
stare at the ceiling
listen to the
AIR CONDITIONING.

It’s whistling here,
a high consistent tone
the only other thing
to pique my interest
is a diagram and explanation
“Pregnant women should inform the radiologist”
a picture of a baby
inside a uterus
symbolic

The door opens
I step forth
into a room with a high window
I’m shepherded toward a tan square
the target area
for the bombardment of
X-Rays
She motions and manhandles my body into shape
Like she’s directing a ballet
“back straighter’
“chin sharper”
“back a bit up a bit”
she moves the tan screen
“take a deep breath”
a click and she says “don’t move”
while she checks
returning she moves me side on
again the ballet performance goes on
dancing this time
with my arms over my head
lifting up my breast
curving my back
there: “got it”
Is this a model shoot?
“Hold your breath”
a click – “please wait”

I study the room
in the ceiling
the tracks the machine moves on
forwards and backwards
plenty of flexibility
it’s arms are similar to the ones on the robot from ‘lost in space’
“warning, danger Will Robinson”
There’s an oxygen tank in the corner
I wonder what that could be for
sheets and covers as needed I guess
all this is split
by her return
“thanks’ just go and see the girls in the front office.

Reception is quieter now
just me and one other whose getting her payments sorted
I hear “one hundred and sixty four dollars”
and my wallet baulks at what I might have to pay
a long time ago I learned to ask
but I didn’t today
I wonder if the private insurance will cover any of the cost
my memory of last time was that I had no recourse
for the expense of X-Rays.
As she processes me
she says “that’ll be fourty seven dollars please”
My wallet breathes a sigh of relief
and she says
“you’ll get fourty back from Medicare,
making your cost just seven dollars”
Beauty! I cry inside.

MEDICARE

A near incident
ascending the stairs to the Medicare office
the escalator going down
with a frail old man
who is not getting off quick enough
a mother and child
are getting bunched up behind him
she’s pleading
sorry , sorry
excuse me, sorry”
but they all get off with out bowling him over
he shuffles off to find his lunch
in the gallery of eateries in the space

A ticket machine calls for a decision
“Medicare rebate”
“Family payments”
and a few other choices
I choose the rebate on the touch screen
I’m offered ticket Number A 268
I hope it’s not going to be more than 15 minutes
’cause that meters running outside
a real voice recorded somewhere
is spliced together in broken words
ti-cket num-ber F-5-6-9 to Coun-ter two
it’s flashing up there in muted yellow F569
the counter number in red
I look down at mine
I’m in the ‘Ays’

A woman in front of me leaps up
and approaches a young man
behind the counter, his hair done up in a pony tail
I imagine at night he’s a rock star
and this is just his day job
The air-conditioning here is a rumble
low and subtle
some of the best I’ve heard in this journey
others have been so obtrusive
that I don’t know how you could work in it
day after day
noise pollution

A 2-6-5. 2-6-6, F 5-7-0
the numbers seem to roll from the computer generation
the lack of personality evident
is that deliberate I wonder
at 2-6-8 I vacate the seat
armed with my two receipts
and that safe green Medicare card
A matron taps efficient keyboard entries
a dab at the enter key
and I sign my life away
that’ll be 76 dollars 50 coming your way then.
Thanks

Two hours of my life
consumed in the medical machine
going from one thing to another
paying out
reimbursing
listening to all sorts of air conditioning
how exiting it is
these medical procedures
what adventures I’ve had today
I only hope that the results
make me feel just as easy.