In good hands

I had to go to the hospital for some tests today. Very nervous, both in anticipation of a positive result (I've got a life threatening illness) and of a negative one (I'm a malingerer). In the event, it looks as if my GP's concerns are unfounded. Phew.

Now, I don't know whether everyone that I came in contact with was simply having a good day, but in the course of my three hours in the hospital I felt increasingly uplifted. In the waiting room I read a meditation book and then an elderly Filipino lady sat next to me and started to tell me all about herself; I couldn't understand everything she was saying but that didn't matter - it distracted me from my self-centred worries.

Then when I met my consultant my heart sank; she looked smart, crisp, efficient, middle aged and very, very tough. In fact she was indeed efficient, but combined it with a dry sense of humour and the willingness and the ability to explain things to me as an equal. She sent me off to another part of the hospital to have the test and arranged for me to have a scan in a couple of weeks' time. As she said, it's better to cover all the possibilities.

I won't go into details of what was involved in this particular test procedure - trust me, you don't want to know. I was conscious the whole time, and at one point when I became distressed, the nurse attending to me stroked my arm and said:

"Try and relax; just focus on your breathing".

If I could have done, I would have smiled at that; focussing on the breath is the cornerstone of my meditation practice and what I aim to do for a session every morning. The doctor administering the procedure and the nurses in the unit were calm, kind and capable. Two medical students in highly starched white coats (who both looked no more than 15 years old) had enquired if they could be present as observers. I said yes of course, and they asked me when I was recovering what the procedure had been like from the patient's point of view. Thank goodness, I thought, that their training these days takes this into account.

Finally, while I was in the recovery ward, a motherly hospital volunteer fetched me a cup of tea and biscuits, and sat with me until she was sure I was all right.

I found this all the more cheering as this particular hospital, one of London's largest teaching establishments, has had its share of bad publicity in recent years. I came home this afternoon, though, feeling incredibly fortunate that I have had free access to good medical treatment from efficient professionals who demonstrated a detached kindness when I badly needed it. I know that not everyone in the world is as fortunate.