This morning I finally had to give in and take myself down to the open surgery. If you get there by 8a.m. you can see a Doctor but it has to be the one next available and not the one of your choice. Okay, I’d had this problem with my left ear for a while and now my throat and all my glands were joining in so something had to be done. What is it about Monday mornings and illness though? The surgery was absolutely packed, though not as packed as it had been when I once had to see the Doctor on the Tuesday after Easter and the queues were out of the door, the waiting room packed and I had to wait for over two hours, half of it sitting on the floor leaning against the fireplace, anyway, today I waited just and hour and fifteen minutes* and luckily I’d taken my book to read so the time passed quite quickly. My main worry was that there were four of the five Doctor’s on duty and one of them I don’t really like very much, I don’t know why, but I find him very arrogant although he did act very quickly when I visited him a couple of years ago with an ulcer in my eye, I was up at the hospital eye clinic within two hours so I can’t fault him on that, but when I’m feeling low, I find him difficult to deal with. Well you’ve probably guessed the outcome of this, when my turn came it was his voice that rang out over the intercom system and I went along the corridor with my heart in my mouth. There he sat this ‘bête noir’ of mine, I hadn’t seen him for two years and he had changed so much, he seemed smaller, rounder and was completely bald. Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
*This may seem like moaning, I'm not really, we are so lucky to be able to see a Doctor on the day we want to, I know some people have great difficulties getting appointments when they need them.