I realise that so far this blog has been populated entirely with posts about The Hospital and that this a. makes me look NHS obsessed and b. makes me look crap-tv obsessed. Only one of these is true. Anyway, this will be the last hospital-based post because, well, the series has ended and also because I really should at least emit the illusion that I have a life. Once I’m done poking fun at this last set of patients, I’ll move on to whining about the myriad of other people-related irritations I encounter on a daily basis, such as ignoramus companies who don’t bother acknowledging the job application you spent all day on, as well as exploring the best methods of punishment for insane people who put cats in wheelie bins. Things like that.
But for now, let us focus our attention on the King’s College Hospital liver unit. It seems the majority of patients featured on the programme are relying entirely on ignorance to ward off their fatty liver disease, which incidentally has been brought on by their reckless, greedy attitudes towards alcohol and fast food. My heart bleeds. So, the less you know, the less it matters? Sophie from Gosport seems to think so. Having previously collapsed with kidney failure after a night of binge drinking, you could be forgiven for thinking she’d have taken the doctor’s advice and laid off the Lambrini for a while. But what do they know? So the next weekend she’s back out on the town. Who knew Portsmouth held such allure. ‘I don’t even know where my liver is, and seeing as I don’t understand it, it’s not something I need to worry about. Anyway, I’m not a binge drinker because I drink all week,’ she declares. Well, I’m certainly glad we cleared that one up.
This warped sense of perspective is shared by an obese, peroxide loudmouth (I don’t remember her name, but you can’t miss her), who remains in denial of her fatty liver disease for the entire episode, pitifully blaming her friend’s birthday and the world cup for her excessive boozing. ‘I drink what I want, when I want and I enjoy it. I am a binge drinker, but it’s not affecting my health.’ Yeah, not much love. Although admittedly, those ten kebabs a night she puts away also share a portion of the blame.
These people are quick enough to pitch up at the hospital and demand treatment when things start to go awry, but they’re not so keen to admit they actually have a problem, and some even have the audacity to get shirty with staff when questioned about their lifestyle choices. ‘The doctor raised his voice to me in there, and I didn’t like it,’ huffs one 27 year-old male who had just tittered his way through a consultation, admitting he is currently consuming A PINT of vodka a day. Oh, I’m sorry that we’ve failed to see the funny side of you abusing your liver and expecting another courtesy of a generous donor. How unsporting of us.
‘Who gets to play God and decide who deserves a transplant?’ asks Michael, 30, who is now on his second donated liver due to drug abuse. Oh I don’t know, the donors perhaps? Or their families? Maybe people should be given the option of specifying whether or not they want their organs donated to somebody who has deliberately abused their own bodies. I’m on the organ donor register and would be pretty horrified if my body parts were being inserted into Mrs Obese Peroxide Loudmouth when there are innocent people waiting for a transplant through no fault of their own. (And yes, I realise I wouldn’t know either way. But still.)
You may think I’m being unfair – everyone deserves a second chance don’t they? Well yes, but to say the self-abusing patients on this programme still aren’t taking their conditions seriously would be a massive understatement. For instance: ‘I’d have to be told to stop drinking completely for me to change my social life. I think there’s worse people out there doing things that have a bigger drain on the NHS than me.’ (Another gem from Mrs Peroxide), and ‘I’m just glad I’m getting treated now, before the rush comes on.’ (Some bloke who appears to be likening his liver transplant to purchasing goods in the Christmas sales). But he’s right. Currently, 9,000 people a year die from liver disease in the UK, with just 700 transplants performed annually. Clearly there’s already a shortage of organs, and thanks to our fatty liver friends the situation is set only to get a whole lot worse. Yes, there will be a rush – I just hope they’re at the back of the queue when it happens.
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