Country Squire
HEALTH SERVICES IN RURAL AREAS NEED URGENT ATTENTION BUT DUNEDOO HAS AN ADVANTAGE, WRITES ROB INGRAM.
A FEW WEEKS ago, I was lucky enough to get an appointment with a medical specialist who was able to remove a small swelling from my wallet. By way of conversation, he asked me if I’d prepared for the inevitable.
I told him I had my credit card with me, but that if he’d prefer I could slip him cash.
“I refer to the inevitability of life… which is death,” he said. ‘‘I’m needing to note that if — when the decision has to be made — you’d prefer the pointless charade of life support or have us throw the switch for a nice, tidy departure?”
My imminent demise came as a bit of a shock, but he eventually reassured me that his query was merely a bit of data control that doctors indulge in these days. A big relief… so was the news that he wasn’t fixated on my ability to pay. A strong rumour about this particular practice is that if you don’t pay before you leave, you don’t get your clothes back.
You may have noticed that the news imparted by medical practitioners is now more troubling than ever before.
It used to be, “Nothing to worry about, it’s nothing”, then… “Nothing to worry about, it’s nothing much”, then…
“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it”, then… “There’s a good chance here that you’ll have a disease named after you”, then…
“I’m making another appointment for tomorrow. Bring the family with you.”
The ultimate, of course, is when the doctor leans forward across his expensive desk and advises: “try to focus less on a cure and more on a treatment you can afford.”
The media has done a pretty good job of informing us all that rural health these days isn’t very well at all. In fact, it’s crook. As crook as Rookwood in the words of those who know that Sydney’s Rookwood Cemetery is the world’s largest remaining cemetery from the Victorian era. Now there’s a claim to fame.
The National Rural Health Alliance, which takes the temperature and checks the pulse of thousands of regional communities across Australia, has its lights flashing and its siren on. It is demanding urgent government action to improve health outcomes for the seven million people living outside Australia’s major cities.
Compared with many towns, we appear to be lucky. We have a modern little hospital with an emergency department and a dedicated and agreeable staff. About all that it really needs, is a doctor.
At the time of writing, a doctor from another small town visits two days a week. Except when he doesn’t. The National
Rural Health Alliance has alerted the government to the fact that connectivity in rural areas is incredibly important to health and wellbeing.
And that’s where we’re really lucky. Dunedoo has connectivity like nowhere else. There was movement at the station the other day because the word had got around that the doctor was visiting… and The Chosen One had an appointment. But first she had to phone Norma about the art show. Norma wasn’t there but her daughter Lisa answered.
No worries, The Chosen One told Lisa she’d phone Norma back after she’d been to the doctor. Lisa said to check before coming into town, because she’d been down at Sue’s salon and she’d heard that the doctor was running very late with his appointments because of an emergency at the hospital. The Chosen One double checked with Sue at the salon, then called Ciera the receptionist at the surgery. The information was good. Don’t come in till much later.
On the way to the surgery, we called at the petrol station. “What brings you folk to town?” asked the bloke behind the counter. So we told him.
“Don’t be surprised if you have a bit of a wait,” he said. “The doctor’s running late — an emergency at the hospital.”
You might have a hospital, but you need a doctor. You might have a doctor, but you need connectivity. We’re a very lucky little town in that regard.
AND THAT’S WHERE WE’RE REALLY LUCKY. DUNEDOO HAS CONNECTIVITY LIKE NOWHERE ELSE.