This is my GP, Dr Luke. It's not actually my Doctor, it's just some bloke who's image I pulled from the net, but for the purposes of this post, he's my Doctor.Now Dr Luke has been my family GP for as long as I can remember. He was there (apparently) when my mother went into labour with my little sister, he was there when I had Scarlet Fever, he was there when I fractured my arm, he was there when I nearly died in a car crash, and recently he's been there when my dad's brain tumours were diagnosed. He's in the very earliest memory I have of my life, and every time I see him he always asks if I'm still riding "that damnable motorcycle". He's the nicest person I know, and, given that I never knew any of my grandparents, he's probably the closest thing I have to a Grandpa. I think it's fair to say that I probably love the old guy.
So today I sacked him.
Yip, sacked. The elbow. The old heave ho. Fired. The bullet. Call it what you will, but I dispensed with his services. It's something that I've been thinking about doing for some time now, but couldn't bring myself to do. Until now.
I've recently been suffering from some sort of bowel related complaint that requires me to remain no further than 20 feet or so from a toilet. We all have, I'm sure, at some point had this sort of problem. It maybe lasts a day or so, then that wonderful machine that is the human body sorts itself out, evacuates whatever upset its delicate balance in the first place, and everyone has cake and whatnot. The problem is that I've been having this torture since I returned from Norway, nearly a month ago. This has me troubled. So, as you would, I call the Doctor's surgery:
I've recently been suffering from some sort of bowel related complaint that requires me to remain no further than 20 feet or so from a toilet. We all have, I'm sure, at some point had this sort of problem. It maybe lasts a day or so, then that wonderful machine that is the human body sorts itself out, evacuates whatever upset its delicate balance in the first place, and everyone has cake and whatnot. The problem is that I've been having this torture since I returned from Norway, nearly a month ago. This has me troubled. So, as you would, I call the Doctor's surgery:
"Hello, Doctors surgery, ***** speaking, how can I help you?"
"Hello, can I make an appointment to see Dr Luke please?"
"Erm . . . the earliest I can give you is in three weeks time."
"No thanks, I think I'll just continue to shit through the eye of a needle, bye." **
"Hello, can I make an appointment to see Dr Luke please?"
"Erm . . . the earliest I can give you is in three weeks time."
"No thanks, I think I'll just continue to shit through the eye of a needle, bye." **
This is, quite frankly, ridiculous. 3 weeks? I'm not planning being ill, I'm ill now!
I don't know what the problem is. Maybe the practice has just too many people on it's books. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, it is a business after all, but it strikes me that somewhere along the line, patient care is going to suffer. My complaint is hardly life threatening and is moderately amusing, but having to wait 3 weeks to see your GP just isn't on nowadays.
I don't know what the problem is. Maybe the practice has just too many people on it's books. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, it is a business after all, but it strikes me that somewhere along the line, patient care is going to suffer. My complaint is hardly life threatening and is moderately amusing, but having to wait 3 weeks to see your GP just isn't on nowadays.
So I've jumped ship to another practice that guarantees that I'll wait no longer than 2 days for an appointment. We shall see.
** - I didn't actually say this. It would require bravery.
11 comments:
Arse issues are no fun, thats for sure.
Bump that shit!
Three weeks just so he can give you a perscription for bowel-slower-downer??
D@mn, you could have flown to Cancun, Mexico and gotten it without a perscription faster than waiting on this old geezer.
He doesn't look like he has the gentlest touch in the "digital prostate exam"-department, either.
Trust me--this will become very important in just a few years.
Kick this walking Norman Rockwell painting to the curb and get a hyperactive young guy just out of med school who actually cares if you croak or not and has read a medical journal after the invention of penicillin.
You live in Norway? I thought you were a Scottish wee boy. I used to have a Doctor called Dr Copenhagen. People think I imagined that but I did. My current doc isn't much cop, I can tell you. I went with 'women's problems (ed - delete) but he sent me for a HIV test and his nurse is absolutely vile. Ooh, you've put on weight lassy....etc etc.
I have a female doctor now and once I got past the idea of her doing the annual "Fickle Finger of Fate"-Test, she is pretty good.
But I have had some piss-poor doctors.
My dad went to a doctor in a small town in Nebraska and told him he wanted something to lower his cholesterol.
The geezer said, "They have drugs that can do that now?"
I shit you not...
My dad wanted to say, "Yeah, but I can understand how you wouldn't know--they only advertise it twenty times a day on TV."
FROM Norway, Empress. I returned to Scotland FROM Norway.
Jeez, maybe you should take evening classes in, I dunno, Comparative Literature maybe?
3 weeks? What are you supposed to do, wait until you're completely dessicated before you call the doctor?
Well all I can say is that 'IMODIUM' does exactly what it says on the box. My toilet has been a no-fly zone for two days now!
whoops yes, sorry, I read that in a rush. Good idea about the evening classes.
Come on Inchy, show us the 'real you' bowel disorder and all.
Campaign to see Inchy!
You are fumbling with the lock of Pandora's Box, Empress!
Ew. I can relate (see early August of 06). My horrid problem was the result of my GP's stand-in, non-English speaking, doctor in residence prescribing a shit of an antibiotic for a sinus infection. $2000 and a permanent ass sore later, I'm still debating about suing him. Bastards.
Do it. Where there's blame, there's a claim.
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