Monday at 10am and I’m at the GP for an emergency appointment.
Now, before y’all panic and worry it wasn’t, in my view, an emergency. Okay, so I hadn’t been able to stand, sit, move, bend, shit, piss or cough without screaming in agony, for three days, but it WASN’T an emergency. An emergency is when you’ve cut your head off, have nailed something onto a body part, or when your gentleman’s area has turned an odd colour. All I’d done was twist my back and all the GP had to do is prescribe some pain killers and send me on my way. It wasn’t an emergency.
The thing is, the only way I can get an appointment with my GP is to ring up and request an emergency appointment. Even when it’s not an emergency.
A conversation at my surgery usually goes like this:
“Can I make an appointment to see a GP. Any GP. I’m not fussy who I see.”
“The earliest appointment we have is in two weeks.”
“Can you double check? Do you really have nothing before then?”
A pause. “The earliest appointment we have is in two weeks.”
“Nothing sooner? Are you sure no-one’s cancelled an appointment in the last ten minutes, with another receptionist perhaps?”
“Best you can do is ring on the day and we’ll get you an emergency appointment.”
“But it’s not an emergency.”
“If you ring on the day we’ll try to fit you in as an emergency on that day.”
“Okay, can I see a GP today please?”
“We’re fully booked.”
“You said that without looking at your computer.”
“You have to ring after 8am. Between 8 in the morning and 9 in the morning.”
“But you said if I ring on the day I can get an appointment. I’m ringing today, so can I have an appointment for today?”
“You need to ring between 8 and 9 in the morning.”
“You can try ringing again tomorrow. Otherwise the next appointment we can find for you is… last week of October.”
I MIGHT BE DEAD BY THEN! I try not to say. I remember the sign above reception which says ‘Abuse of our staff will not be tolerated and might result in your details being removed from this practice’ but OH I’M SO TEMPTED because of the Kafkaesque nature of this conversation. So instead I thank them, profusely, to counteract how pissed off I am, put the phone down, SCREAM AT THE CAT and tell myself I’ll ring tomorrow for an emergency appointment. Which I never do! Because it’s not an emergency! Because my head isn’t severed, I haven’t nailed something to me, or my balls ain’t gone green! Or if I do ring again, because I’m still feeling rough, then I can’t get through because everyone else who’s ill is ringing between 8am and 9am for an emergency sodding appointment which probably isn’t a sodding emergency!
*Deep breaths, deep breaths, go to your happy place Spencer. Think happy thoughts*
Rant over. I’ll save my rants for another post, but suffice to say my back pain these past few days has been so bad my partner suggested I get an appointment and I thought this was sensible. It’s got to be bad if I took sensible advice. Plus I’d at least get some pain relief which would help me and maybe a referral to a back specialist. So I went to see him on Monday and was told to rest, which is apparently crap advice, and to take some drugs, which is never crap advice.
Now, before you think I’ve gone all Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting, I very rarely take pain medication. The odd thing here or there if I really need to but it’s not the first port of call if I’m in pain. I just don’t like taking them. And right now I’m taking strong codeine, which I hate. Mainly because it fugs my head, gives me constipation which makes me feel like I’m passing a Rubik’s Cube every time I take a dump, makes me drowsy which isn’t good when operating heavy machinery, like our Dyson, which I dropped on my toe and it did a hurty, and it gives me utterly insane dreams. Last night I was running a hotel and a client paid me in sausage rolls, which I thought was great but had trouble banking as HSBC wouldn’t accept sausage rolls over the counter (It’s okay though, Santander did, which is why they’re rated so highly for customer service). The night before I was a ventriloquist AND I’d been elected Pope, and I swear being Pope is awesome. You can park where ever you want, you get away with library fines, and you get to meet Rihanna, and let me tell you she’s isn’t a diva at all and gives amazing footrubs.
I’m also taking something called Naproxen, which is new to me. I’ve had backpain in the past but never had this, and as something is making me feel nauseous, I looked at the sheet that comes with it to see if this was a possible side effect.
Possible side effects include;
Blistering of the skin when exposed to sunlight. You know, like what happens to VAMPIRES?
Loss of hair. I could lose MORE hair? Great! What kinda hair? Could I lose my hair hair or other hair like eyebrows, facial and puboid? Can I choose which hair to lose?
Dizziness. Depression. Tiredness. My head is spinning reading this and now I’m feeling sad, and sleepy. SHIT, FULL HOUSE!
Diarrhoea. Constipation. Make your mind up. Which? WHICH?
Feeling your heartbeat. You mean, you shouldn’t be able to? I usually can. Is this a bad thing? Oh no, I can NOW FEEL MY HEARTBEAT! HELP!!!
Increased anxiety. Reading this has increased my anxiety. I CAN NOW FEEL MY HEARTBEAT IN MY FACE!
Blistering of the genitals. Woah there Nelly, what the -???
Backache. Now someone’s taking the piss.
A possible side effect for a tablet prescribed for back ache IS back ache? Sod this for a game of soldiers, I’m off to bed. I’m taking two codeine and hope Rihanna’s still about.
Nunnite. And thanks for reading.
Can you get to see your GP or do you need to book an appointment two weeks before you’re ill just to see them? How do you get rid of irritating pains? Divorce or pain relief? Let us know your views and thoughts in the comments section below. We LOVE a good comment we do.