SatNavs! I have always had a love-hate relationship with them. My daughters will set off for some destination in middle England armed with the kit, but with no concept whatsoever of the location of the place or the direction in which they are heading. The famous G.K. Chesterton poem could be true for them, “The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head”.
A good illustration of this occurred last week when I went, with the family, to a Cathedral city for the youngest daughter’s graduation ceremony (the last hopefully until grandchildren). As we approached our destination (a central hotel opposite the cathedral) the girls were fiddling around with said SatNav, complaining that there was no signal and it couldn’t work out where we were. “Well, that’s NFN,” I remarked, and suggested that they simply followed the road signs marked, “City Centre”, then scanned the horizon for a tall pointy thing with a cross on the top and head for that. I was not proved wrong.
On the other hand several years ago I journeyed with youngest daughter by (horse) lorry to Holland to collect a horse (obviously). We had all the correct documentation but were surprised at how lax security was at the Dover ferry. It was just as well because the lorry was stuffed with illegal emigrants; junior doctors all escaping from MMC and heading for a European country where they ignored the EWTD. I must admit that the SatNav proved to be a star, guiding us across northern Europe (France, Belgium, Holland) and safely to our destination in Nijmegen (which the Dutch pronounce as a cross between a cough and a snort).
However it was on the return that the SatNav really proved its worth. Traversing Europe, no problem! Crossing the Channel, a cinch! But the ruddy M25 was a complete nightmare. At one point, having taken two hours to do four miles, the SatNav sprang to life. “Take the slipway and cross the roundabout, third exit,” explained the nice lady. And sure enough she deftly directed us round highways and byways to get us home without further ado.
The benefits of such technology are becoming increasingly common in medical practice. During my recent spell on the other side of the couch my excellent GP gave me a small electronic instrument, about the size of an iPod. I placed this just under my left nipple, pressed a button, and after thirty seconds it provided a neat little ECG trace. Press another button and it gave the diagnosis such as, “normal rhythm, irregular heart beat, AF, VF, FUBAR (see previous link)” etc. It was not quite Dr McCoy’s tricorder, but definitely getting that way.
Increasing numbers of similar instruments are now appearing on the market including electronic stethoscopes and hand-held ultrasound scanners. Give it another few years and if you wake up feeling a bit peaky you will plug yourself into your SatMed. After a quick scan, a reassuring voice will say, “Take the front door, hail a taxi and go straight to ED, third exit”. In fifty years time I suspect it will simply automatically teleport you to the resus room!