Talking Point with Vicky Turrell: 'It all seemed so mysterious'
‘To choose your provider please ring the Referral Management Centre (RMC) on…’ There was a phone number in big black letters beginning with 0330… The letter did not tell me what it was for or why I needed a ‘provider’ except that my GP or optician had referred me. I had a Unique Booking Reference Number (UBRN). It all seemed so mysterious almost as if I was applying for an interview with the secret service. Should I ring the number? I looked up 0330 numbers and the internet said that they are ‘technically free’, what does that mean?
I rang the number. Suddenly it all became clear, in May I saw a doctor who sent me to have my eye checked. They said that I needed a minor op and would be referred. This was it, three months late, so late I had forgotten about it. The referral had gone from my GP to my optician then back to my GP then to the RMC who put me on a waiting list until now when I got the letter telling me to ring ‘a technically free number’ with my UBRN. I could choose where I wanted to be treated. This was punched in to their referral programme, but the booking computer was not working, they would ring back. I finally have an appointment in September. I wonder how much that all cost and I have not even had any treatment yet.
There was another mystery the other day. It was in one of those shops where you look through the catalogue and then go to a person waiting at a counter with a computer in front of her. All went well for me but not for the person alongside me. The assistant kept asking the shopper to repeat what he said and we did not know why until she said, “I am deaf”. Eventually she went off to get his chosen items. I talked to her afterwards and it was only then I noticed her home-made badge. It had two ears on which should have alerted us but somehow it did not. She thought that she would make it bigger. We surely need a special badge for people with hearing loss so that we can all be aware like we are when we see a white stick.
I have always been glad of my senses but not yesterday as the stench of rotting cabbages reached my nostrils at our new Household Recycling Centre. We rushed to leave our old cardboard boxes as the sound of ‘I will always love you’ blared out and a worker sat on an old seat to eat his sandwiches, perhaps oblivious to the smell.
