Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ U gh, so Rick ‘s latest obsession is ‘hard to reach groups’,” said Charlie, using air quotes. “He’s insisting we invite people to sessions here at the hospital, to engage them.” Kiera had only just walked through the office door. She raised her eyebrows.

“As insightful as ever,” she replied, hanging her light jacket on the coat hook on the back of the door and slinging her bag on the floor by her desk. “Presumably it’s not occurred to him that people aren’t actually hard to reach, just that we’re not providing services in the way that makes sense to them.”

“Bullseye,” said Charlie, whirling in his chair.

“Well, let’s see what we can do together. Perhaps we can get something useful for this through the consultation groups I’m running out in the community. I’ve got the service list now from the Medical Director. Hip replacements is right at the top. I’m going to get some groups of patients here at the hospital, but also I’m going out to community centres in Saltley and Kingstanding and a few other places. Want to join forces? We could put a few churches, Gurdwaras and Mosques on the list to try and get a nice diverse set of people to hear from.”

“Oh my God, K, you are a total lifesaver,” said Charlie, a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Well, you’ll have to work with me, and we’ll need to get some of the team involved. But, you know, it’s what I do.” Kiera logged into her inbox, and saw an invite to visit the clinic where hip replacements were discussed by the doctors with their patients. It was a chance to see how everything worked. Perfect.

One of Kiera’s favourite activities was seeing how services worked firsthand. Each doctor, each nurse, each administrator, healthcare assistant, porter, cleaner, volunteer had their own job, looking after one small part of a particular process. Kiera’s job was to follow the whole process through, listen to patients, and provide feedback on how things might be made better for them.

She strolled down to outpatients where there were already a range of folk sitting in the maroon wipe-clean seats. She checked in at reception, where the service manager was waiting for her. Pritesh smiled – they’d worked together before and he always welcomed the chance to do something with Kiera and her team. That was not always the case. She could sometimes be seen as a bit of a busybody, especially among medical staff.

“Nice to see you, Kiera,” he said. “Let’s get you started.” He steered her into the waiting area where two familiar figures sat leafing through booklets on different procedures. “This is Dawn and Brian.”

“Well, what a lovely surprise to see you both again,” said Kiera, holding out her hand to the couple who looked up.

“Aw now, that’s good,” said Brian. He was wearing the same flat cap she’d seen him in the last time they’d met. “They said someone was going to follow us round today to see how it all works, and what we thought about it all. I didn’t know it would be you. That’s lovely, isn’t it, Dawn?”

Dawn smiled. “It’s lovely. Though I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know,” she added, shaking her head a little.

Pritesh smiled and left them to it. Kiera pulled up a chair to sit by Brian and Dawn. “You might think that, Dawn. But I’ll be honest, we can always do things better. And you’re the expert on how all this feels, right?”

“Well, I s’pose so,” she said, her expression still a little bemused. “Time was we just did what the doctor told us. He’s the real expert, right?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true from a medical perspective,” Kiera agreed. “Your doctor will know the surgical procedures and facts, but he or she won’t have any idea about you, what works for you, what doesn’t. They won’t know how you feel, whether the waiting room is too hot or too cold, or whether you feel like you understand everything that’s happening to you. There’s only one expert on that, and it’s you.”

Dawn nodded and Brian smiled. “You’re a smart lass,” he said. “You’re welcome to follow us round today and see what we get up to. It’s like being famous and having a journalist interview us.”

Dawn laughed. “Oh, Brian, you are daft,” she said. Kiera giggled as she got out her notepad and asked Dawn questions about when she’d been referred to the hospital and what had happened since she started coming. Dawn was happy to help, with interjections from Brian from time to time .

After about twenty minutes, it became clear that the clinic was running behind. Kiera would ask Pritesh about why that might be later, but in the meantime, she went to the desk and asked when Dawn would be seen. It was going to be at least another twenty minutes. She sighed.

“Ok, both. Apologies, it seems that we’re in for a slightly longer wait than we would have hoped for. I’m heading to the café. I hear Marjorie the chef has made chocolate concrete – it’s her signature dish. How about a round of teas and some of that?”

“Oh, well, yes,” said Dawn, “only if it isn’t any trouble.” Brian started to rummage in his pockets and as Kiera watched, he pulled out a crumpled five-pound note.

“No need, Brian, this one’s on us. What with having to put up with me following you round and the delay, it’s the least we can do.”

Chocolate concrete was a peculiarity of the hospital Kiera hadn’t been familiar with until recently. She wondered if it was a Brummie thing. She’d never even heard of it until she started working there, and certainly nothing like it was ever served up in her Devon homeland. But she had soon learnt that it was a helpful way to smooth over a tricky meeting or waiting room moment. Marjorie would do a batch every couple of weeks and email all the staff when it was ready. The Head of Communications was desperate to curb Marjorie’s ‘email-all’ rights, but she was something of a hospital institution, and the CEO was a fan.

Tea and chocolate concrete made the wait fly by, and soon they were in a small private room with one of the consultants. Kiera had been through the consent process with Dawn, to ensure she was totally happy with her presence in the room .

“Hello,” said the tall, slender dark-haired woman sitting at her desk. “Nice to see you, Mrs Maxwell.”

“Call me Dawn, love,” said the older woman as she took a seat.

“I’m Ms Alexander.”

“Not Dr Alexander?” asked Brian. “Sorry, not my business.” He clutched his hands together.

“No need to worry, Mr Maxwell. I am a doctor, you’ll be relieved to know,” said Ms Alexander, with a small smile. “I’m a surgeon, so traditionally we go by Ms, Mr or Mrs.”

“Ah, I see,” said Brian. “Well, you can call me Brian. I’m definitely not a doctor.”

By the time Kiera returned to her office, it was lunchtime. “Hey, Charlie, I’ve got some chocolate concrete left. Want some?”

“I’m not sure it fits in with my athletic lifestyle, to be honest,” he said, “though I’ll force it down for Marjorie’s sake.”

“Yeah, good plan. Just do an extra couple of weights at the gym this evening.”

“How was the clinic shadowing?” asked Charlie through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Yeah, interesting. They need to sort out their waiting times – my patient was seen nearly an hour after her appointment. And as always, the language the surgeon used wasn’t as plain as it could have been.”

“Medical jargon,” said Charlie, with a sigh, before pouring more of the sweet treat from the paper bag into his mouth.

“One day they’ll realise the jargon’s for them and not always for the patient. Depending on the patient, of course.”

“Definitely depending on that. Do you remember when Saffie the matron up on ward 6A broke her arm? The A&E staff still wince when you mention that to them. She was, truly, a terrible patient,” said Charlie.

“Oh my, yes, I remember it well. Didn’t she demand that the radiographer took another angle when she was in X-ray, and then inform the poor Registrar exactly what kind of fracture she had and how best to treat it?” Kiera laughed. It was a cliché that medical staff made the worst patients, but in her experience, clichés were usually there for a reason.

“Come on then, bab,” said Charlie, changing the subject, “how’s the world of lesbian dating? Have you met someone, moved in and bought a cat yet?”

“Imagine what Mr Chips would say!” said Kiera. “But no, I haven’t.” Her cheeks reddened.

“I can sense a ‘but’…”

“Well, as it happens, I do have a date this evening.”

“Oh my God, why on earth didn’t you lead with that?” asked Charlie, his voice raised and his chair whirling in excitement. “Come on then, what’s her name, what does she do, is she hot and does she have magnificent tits?”

“Charlie,” said Kiera, reaching back to shut the office door properly, “do you want a job tomorrow? If a patient hears you, you’ll be toast.”

“You’ve not heard how some of the patients talk about the staff,” Charlie pointed out, with a frown.

“I have. Ok, well, her name is Hannah and we’re going for coffee. She’s an English teacher at a secondary school in Moseley. She looks, um, hot in her picture, I suppose.” Kiera checked over her shoulder, lowered her voice, and added, “On the tits, I don’t yet know.”

“And this is where Grindr is so much more reliable. I know what a chap’s ‘chief characteristics’ are by the time we’ve exchanged two messages,” said Charlie, speaking quietly.

“And that, Charlie my dear, is why camera phones are a scourge,” said Kiera.

“Hmm. Well, I beg to differ. And I want a full rundown tomorrow when you’re back in work, please.”