Wondering if the answers would be truly anonymous and
confidential if any recipient chose to cross-check the 10 digit reference on
both the letter and the form, I turned the page. I was advised that my name had
been selected randomly then and invited to apply for any necessary assistance
in 13 different languages, or to request a copy of the questionnaire in Braille
via a special phone number. (Yes, I know…..)
I flicked through the questionnaire to assess the task ahead
of me, and saw fifty box ticking questions. The first section was about “accessing
GP services”, which was fancy talk for making appointments and speaking to
staff and doctors. The old cliché about whether other patients can hear what
you say to the receptionist was dusted down again, closely followed by a
question that appeared to presume that some people make GP appointments by fax
or would prefer to do so.
Over to the “making an appointment” section. “Last time you
wanted to see or speak to a GP or nurse from your GP surgery, what did you want
to do?” One of the six options was “I wasn’t sure what I wanted.” Oh, come on.
To order a large cod and chips, perhaps? Or a pint? Or just seek a few kind
words? (Maybe this was an option for the Alzheimers’ sufferers.)
Now for the GP and nurse appointment section, all about
assessing time given, listening, explaining, involvement and caring, all on a
sliding scale from very good to very poor. All options fairly covered, you
might think, but how interesting it might be to see the GP completing a
parallel patient focused questionnaire on such issues as lateness, paying
attention, courtesy (e.g. not interrupting a consultation to answer the mobile)
and respect for the opinion of a trained professional who might not be giving
the advice the patient wanted to hear?
The focus then switched to the patient’s personal
circumstances. Questions were asked about long term medical conditions before
moving to mobility, ability to wash and dress, usual activities, pain, discomfort,
anxiety and depression. Curiously, none of them carried a “mind your own
business” (or should that be “prefer not to say”) option. The questionnaire
went on to ask if the patient had a “written care plan” before ending up at
question 50 via out of hours services and a brief set of enquiries about NHS
dentistry.
Now, it’s perhaps not entirely unreasonable to conclude that
out of the brave souls who began to complete the document, a fair few would
have given up out of boredom, frustration or annoyance before the last of the
62 questions bore a ticked box. It may be equally accurate to conclude that
those who were sufficiently motivated to fill the whole thing in and return it
would comprise more than a fair share of the complaining classes, leaving the
silent majority to nurse their adjective of choice. So how representative would
the answers be, and how sensible or otherwise in turn would it be to allocate
resources in order to address perceived shortcomings evidenced only by those
answers? Debatable. But it’s hardly likely to bring the questionnaire mania to
an end, even if its sole practical purpose is to demonstrate that “garbage in,
garbage out” is as true a principle as ever.
Wait a minute. Did I just say 62 questions when I started
off with 50? Indeed I did. Well, a government questionnaire would hardly be the
same without the usual collection of diversity questions about personal
characteristics. The normal range was spiced up on this occasion with a few
more covering such topics as how long your work journey takes, your smoking
habits, and your time spent giving support for the infirm. Interesting to note
that while the “male or female” question did not provide a third option,
thereby inexcusably discriminating against the hermaphrodite community, the
orientation question included a curious “other” alongside straight, gay, bi and
prefer not to say. It would perhaps be wiser not to comment further, save
perhaps to note the potential deterrent value of this closing section upon the
incentive to return completed questionnaires. Or to decide whether to laugh or
cry at the thought of the poor souls in the survey brainstorming session
struggling with the duty to report that 26% of the respondents who were both
Buddhist and heavy smokers used their written care plans to help manage their
health day to day and had trust and confidence in their GP surgery nurse
despite not being happy that other patients could overhear what they said to
the receptionist, having made their appointment booking by fax.
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