Living with chronic conditions is a bit like travelling by train.

To try to explain….

Whilst my parents named me the French long Jacqueline …they quickly realised that this was a mouthful and a half. So, thinking I could not spell.. referred to me as J.A.C.Q. to discuss items of note. It has stuck to this day. I think they realise I can spell now. Certainly as 30% of my peers were named after Mrs Jackie Kennedy, I was mighty glad to assume a less obvious namesake. Perhaps it was in relation to my parents’ favourite films…

In the 50’s a French actor, Jacques Tati.

Jacques Tati made a series of films about the character Mon Oncle. A memorable clip is a train station platform. Incomprehensible announcements to waiting passengers … last minute trains arriving on wrong platforms with everyone trotting up the stairs over the bridge and onto the platform. …you get my drift?

Having today got stuck on a Sunday Service train for ages…in tunnel…having had to trot over to a last minute change platform when I got on…spilt my coffee…got mopped up by lovely station man…I have a chance to reflect.

Healthcare. It’s one long change of platform after another. All valiant attempts to understand the commentary. Dashed in a moment, by looking confident in one place only to find I really needed to be in another. .

Lots of letters inviting me to appointment s. Lots of letters cancelling those appointments.New letters inviting me to new appointments. Incomprehensible phone messages. Incomprehensible changes. Am I on the right platform?

To to be continued… meanwhile here is Monsieur Hulot or Mon Oncle :  JacquesTati