A tale of two hospitals

We went for our twelve week scan last week. It wasn't until afterwards that my wife and I revealed to each other that we had each independently allowed paranoia to get the better of us, and had expected something untoward to be revealed. I suppose this fear was a residual effect of the miscarriage we once suffered. Even the successful birth of our most excellent daughter couldn't quite banish that demon.

But we needn't have worried. As far as it is possible to tell at this early stage, all is well with our next project. He or she is a relatively ordinary size and shape, and is also a wriggler. My wife reflected that this does not bode well for our hopes of a calm, gentle baby to contrast with our daughter. But we'll settle for another healthy but energetic one.

What was interesting about our latest scanny adventure was the contrast it demonstrated between the two hospitals we have graced in search of sonography. You may not know or recall that we moved house half way through our daughter's gestation. So - although she was born at our current health emporium - the early medical attention with which we are now being reacquainted took place at a different venue.

The prior experience was one of long waits in vast (yet somehow still stuffy) waiting rooms, which rendered appointment times a ridiculous notion, as one's patience was tested to the limit before being rewarded with the attention of a delightful and attentive team of sonographers and assorted helpers. They really seemed to care. Admittedly this may have been why everyone's appointment overran.

Our new hospital adopts a contrasting ideology. You, the expecting, are but cattle, to be efficiently herded from one corridor to the next in a ruthless system which spares nobody in its merciless pursuit of timely box-ticking. My wife was duly provided with a scan, several forms to fill in (quickly), a blood test and at least two conversations with a terrifying but deceptively witty receptionist, who seems to have perfected a kind of Jack-Dee-of-administration persona. And we were in and out in about twenty minutes.

I can see the merits of both systems. One can't underestimate the benefit of feeling cared for but, in principle, surely it's better to help as many people as possible than to make a few people feel really good about themselves? I suppose, ideally, hospitals would achieve both. But that would require more staff, and there doesn't seem to be much money about at the moment, so we'll resign ourselves to being herded through the next six months.