The weathered old house stood on a quiet stretch of road in the forgotten small town, its windows looking longingly out at a world that had long passed it by. Inside sat Mr Brown, in his well-loved armchair, the glow of a new laptop illuminating his wrinkled face in shades of whites and blues. He wasn’t seeing the peeling wallpaper or the worn furniture, he was connected virtually to the medical centre of Dr. Elias, many miles away in the city.

It’s true that he had resisted “remote care” and “telehealth” at first. That was because he had longed for the familiar, the smell of antiseptic in the small dispensary, the knowing look in Dr Bernard’s patient eyes, the reassuring touch on his shoulder as he saw him out after a consult. But Dr. Bernard was long gone now, lost to the relentless tides of time. Dr Elias was his only lifeline now, a stranger separated by screens and algorithms, and yet somehow there for him.

The EMR which was accessible through the “cloud”, held Mr Brown’s life story, his every ache and illness carefully recorded and analysed by AI. His vital signs were now being monitored in real-time and Dr Elias was able to adjust his medication with a timely precision that surprised even an old codger like him.

Of course it wasn’t the same as a personal visit, he knew that. He did miss the human touch, the familiar sense of companionship. And yet, this remote connection was also a strange comfort.
It allowed Mr Brown to remain independent, to hold onto his dignity, perhaps a small defiance against the ravages of time and inevitable loneliness that comes with it. The virtual visit ended, the blues and whites blinking out, leaving behind a weary old man in the quiet of his family home, surrounded by his memories and fading photographs, and yet somehow a little less alone than he was before.

The value of remote care.