Blogmas Day 4: Walking the Frontline

A piece I wrote for @MEAMcoalition Walking the Front Line; exhibition earlier this year
(you can find a video about the exhibition here:http://meam.org.uk/policy/walking-the-frontline-a-short-film/ …)

So you wake up, and you feel ill. It’s been going on for a couple of weeks, you’ve tried paracetamol, you’ve tried having a few early nights but you’re not feeling any better. It feels like time to call the GP, get in see a doctor, and maybe start a course of antibiotics.

So you set an alarm, it goes off at 7:30, it gives you enough time to wipe the sleep out of your eyes and start calling your doctor's when it opens at 08:00. You hold for ten minutes. You get through. They give you an appointment for 09:10; just enough time to brush your teeth, scramble about for your car keys and get there on time.

So you wake up, and you feel terrible. You’ve only had a few hours broken sleep, some of your neighbours in the hostel are pretty lively at night so it’s hard to get your head down and the staff come and check that you’re ok at about 6:00 when you’ve usually only just dropped off. You’ve been feeling this way for a few months. But this is the first time you’ve had an address long enough to able to register with a doctor. The lack of sleep is a blessing though, because you’re up in time to start ringing the doctors at 08:00. You hold for ten minutes, but your credit runs out just as you get through. You go downstairs to ask the hostel staff to use the phone, someone else is on the line, by the time you get through there’s one appointment in an hours time. You’ve got no money for the bus and the surgery is two miles away. You’ll have to walk it and you’ll have to leave now. You’re starting to feel really anxious about the appointment, you’re worried about whether your clothes are clean, about whether there’ll be many other people in the waiting room, about whether you’ll have to use the automatic sign-in thingy, about whether you’ll get there in time, about whether you’ll still get seen if you’re a bit late, about whether you’ll have to explain where you’re living, about whether you’ll see the same doctor as last time, about whether the doctor will listen, about what you’re going to eat today, about whether there’ll be a coat you could have from the donations box at the church, about how you’re going to make it across town for your appointment with probation later, about how you’re going to eat for the rest of the week, about the holes in your trainers in case it rains, and you’re going to have to have a drink soon so you don’t end up having a seizure.

It’s feels like a miracle, but you get there on time.