STILL HOPEFUL

My return to London was not a happy occasion. The noise was still there, the holiday was over and I felt even more of a rat for having spoiled it.

I was forced to accept that the noise would not go away without the assistance of a doctor. In any event, having suffered it day and night for the past two weeks I had had enough. Whatever anyone did it would be better than this.

We had arrived back too late for me to get an appointment that day. It is ironical but I found myself becoming impatient to see a doctor, which for the past two weeks I had gone to great lengths to avoid.

I have seldom had occasion to consult a doctor. When it came to making an appointment it occurred to me that I was not registered with one. I remembered a private clinic that my children had sent me to several months before. On that occasion I had had too much to eat and drink the previous night and I was paying the price by suffering acute indigestion. Being somewhat over weight and having turned grey with bouts of cold sweat my family decided that I was a prime candidate for a heart attack and should see a doctor urgently. When I flatly refused, one of my sons with unanimous encouragement from the others booked me into a private clinic for a checkup. I refused to go. Had I been able to fight off four strapping great blokes who bundled me into a car, there is no way I would have gone and I would have jumped out if my daughter hadn't engaged the child door locks.

I was rather ungracious and smug when I left the clinic able to report that there was nothing wrong with me. In truth I was relieved because earlier the thought had crossed my mind at one stage that I may be suffering from a little more than indigestion.

Any clinic that could certify me fit and well without subjecting me to a practical demonstration of the vast array of horrible looking instruments that they seem to accumulate is my kind of clinic and they deserve my support. I telephoned and made an appointment for the following day.

I secretly hoped that I might not need to actually see the doctor. I know that whenever I have had toothache, as soon as I walked into the dentist's reception the ache stopped. I figured there was a good chance that the clinic reception may have the same effect. It didn't.

After a thorough and painless examination, tinnitus was mentioned as a possible cause. Never having heard of it, the mention of the word did not cause me any undue concern.

I was prescribed a pill so matter-of-factly that it could just as easily have been an aspirin. Obviously this was a minor problem. A mere routine matter. I was told that they should clear up the problem within a few days but if not to pop back. If Anita ever throws away her life jacket I will not be as pleased as I was at that moment. It was all over - nearly anyway. I was walking on air. It had all been so simple. If only I had walked through that Spanish doctors door. I resolved never to be so cowardly again.

Having given the chemist the price of a good meal for two in exchange for a pot of pills that looked far less appetizing I made my way home. I looked at my ear in the driving mirror, rattled the pot of pills at it and said 'got you, you bastard'. I wondered if I should apologize a few days later when I discovered that I was wrong.

I started to develop unkind feelings towards my doctor who I felt had built up my hopes only to let me down. Obviously he had made a guess and had got it wrong. My bad tempered feeling mellowed somewhat when it became necessary for me to see him again. I have never considered it smart to be aggressive toward people who wield indisputable power over me. I love my dentist. He is the most charming person I have ever met. Never once have I found it necessary to even mildly disagree with him. I have always creased up with laughter at his jokes even when I didn't understand them - whenever I was sitting in his chair.

My doctor made an appointment for me to see a consultant at a private hospital. The earliest available time was in two weeks. That may not seem very long to most people, but the way I was now suffering it was a lifetime. I was told that the appointment could not be brought forward.

I prepared to telephone the consultant myself to see if I could do any better. I rehearsed a masterly grovelling speech with just a hint of firmness should it become necessary. If I had to put my foot down I was equipped to do so in the most heavily padded slippers you could imagine. Anything that could even remotely be termed firm, nasty or aggressive was immediately followed by grovel of such eloquence that even the most touchy; the most sensitive person would melt immediately. Seldom in my life have I enjoyed such success. I had got the balance just right. Six tenths grovel, two tenths pleading and two on the verge of tears. My appointment was brought forward by one week. I carefully filed the recipe for future reference.

I had to keep checking that I had not missed my appointment. Every hour seemed like a day. I started going to the office but had to keep going home. Being around other people became intolerable. People talking, laughing, answering telephones, all behaving normally. How I looked forward to being like that again.

The night before my appointment I got no sleep at all. I made endless cups of tea. I was excited and counted off the minutes. The dawn chorus had never had such an appreciative audience.