The referral
I’ve read lot’s of books on the art of communication as I’ve had a career in sales. Sometimes, though, real life is the best teacher.
“It’s your posture”, she told me.
“That’s what’s causing your bad back”.
These were the fateful words uttered to me, by my G.P. on that fateful day in November 2003.
What follows is a sorry tale of misunderstanding and woe; A modern fable on communication. It’s something only Count Arthur Strong could better.
By telling you this I merely wish to caution you on the importance of listening carefully. You see, my friend, the truth is stranger than fiction.
My Doctor went on to explain that I needed to improve my posture. She then proceeded to refer me to a Physiotherapist, to show me how and to give me some exercises to do.
She then slid the piece of paper, she had been scribbling on, across the desk in a way only G.P.s do.
Nadine, Physiotherapist
Whitefield NHS Clinic
Friday 4th November 9.15AM
I picked up the chitty and carefully folding it and slipping it into my pocket, I offered my sincere thanks. With that, my fate was sealed, the dye was cast.
The Appointment
At precisely 9.14AM, on November 4th 2003, I launched into Whitefield clinic only to find the receptionist on the phone, deep in communication with another patient.
I waited for eye contact.
9.15AM
“Come on” I whispered to myself.
She’s still gabbing on the phone.
There was a bell on the counter, like the one in Faulty Towers.
Should I ring it, whilst she’s there in front of me?
9.16AM and finally eye contact.
The receptionist finished the phone call.
“Michael Holden, to see Nadine the Physiotherapist – 9.15”, I announced.
“Ok, I’ll let her know. Please take a seat, she’ll be out shortly.”
9.17AM – I sit down in the waiting area. Not long now.
I idly browse through some back issues of Country Life, as you do.
It was 10.03AM that I realised there might be problem.
“Is there a problem?” I asked. “Only I’ve been waiting over three quarters of an hour and I’ve not been called.”
The receptionist said she would check for me.
Just then Nadine come out of her surgery and quickly looked me up and down, with a puzzled look on her face.
“What time did you think you should have been here?”
“9.15 today”.
“But we’ve no record of your appointment. I’ll tell you what, I’m free now for an initial consultation if you ‘d like?”
“Let’s go then” I rebounded. As I followed her to the surgery.
The Surgery
Now let me tell you, this was the strangest physiotherapy surgery, I’d seen, even though I’d been in precisely zero before this day. There was a couch, though and Nadine indicated to me to sit down on it.
As I sat down, I noticed a statue of a head on the shelf. You know the ones which show the regions of the brain on it. I thought the NHS must be looking into using the mind to control back pain. Enlightened.
Then in all innocence I asked Nadine if I should take my shirt off now. She recoiled in shock, but quickly regained her composure.
“Do you feel you need to undress?”
“Well, I did at my GPs, she had a look at my back and then sent me to you.”
“Well I think you better stay dressed. What seems to be on your mind then?”
The Punchline
What a strange question for a psychotherapist to ask. It was at that precise moment that there was a knock at the door, which opened, and a uniformed lady popped her head round it.
“Excuse me Nadine” she said politely.
“Oh, hi Nadine, what can I do for you?” replied the first Nadine.
“Well, I seem to have lost one of my patients and Margery on the front desk said he might be in here. Mr Holden, I presume?”
Then as I sheepishly got up to follow Nadine no. 2 to her surgery, my eye caught the sign on the door.
PYSCHOTHERAPIST
What are the chances of that happening? Me living in a sitcom.
See if you can spot each example of poor communication in the above. Let me know in the comments.