Thursday 19 March 2009

GP Idiocy


So, I needed to book an appointment because my girlfriend and I discovered a dubious lump on my back. So I ventured out of my cubby-hole and across a couple of roads and made my way into my local GP because I thought it would be the sensible thing to do.

“We’ve got no appointments this week, how about next month?”

Next month, are you literally kidding? It’s the first of the month today! That’s thirty days, and you’re telling me that for thirty days your appointments are so busy you can’t fit me in for ten minutes? Has the whole city of Aberdeen booked in for STD tests or something? And anyway, what if I’m dead by then, the reason is going to be because you couldn’t fit me in and that’ll be me, done. Don’t I get another chance to survive, please?!?!

“Well you can call-in in the morning to see if we have any available appointments released at the beginning of the day, we suggest ringing at 8 to 8.30” Great, thanks for that. My life’s going to depend on whether my alarm goes off in the morning, what if my battery dies, or there’s a power cut and it resets the time. Imagine if this had happened to Charles Darwin. Oh sorry Charlie, we can’t fit you in to see to your minor curable but potentially fatal stomach bug because Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s coming in for his Meningitis Jab, and then later we’ve got Jane Austen coming in for a pregnancy test.

This ran through my mind.

So I duly saved the phone number in my mobile, and called up at bang on 8.30 like I was supposed to.

I’d like to book an appointment please.

“Is it an emergency?”

No, why would it be an emergency? Why on earth would I call Old Aberdeen Medical Practice in the time of an emergency? Oh no, Russia have just launched a nuclear bomb on the USA, let’s call the Old Aberdeen Medical Practice to let them know. I haven’t forgotten the three digit ‘999’ number and remembered the 11 digit number to a local Medical Centre have I? I’m not a moron. I want to book an appointment at a casual time of my choosing so it fits in with my hectic schedule.

“Is it serious?”

Sorry? How am I meant to know? I mean, come on. The reason I’m coming to you is because I want you to DIAGNOSE ME. As stupid as it sounds, that’s what I want to happen. If I didn’t think it was serious then why would I bother turning up? Or how about I just self diagnose myself using Google and Yahoo questions – maybe they’d offer a greater enlightenment.

“Okay, I’ll organise it for you, what’s your date of birth?”

Why? Are you going to send me a birthday card? Surely my actual name would be a more sensible requirement?

“...and your name?”

Maybe we could have started with that, lovey?

“Does 11.30 sound good with you?”

Well it clashes with my Pilates class, but I guess it will have to do.