NHS Stasi

 

Today I had another meeting with the Stasi!

They had left a message to make a date with the doctor who wished to see me.  So, reluctantly I called at just after 8 am this morning.  Soon, after a long detailed explanation of who I called, how to deal with Covid, and one or two other points I was told to hold and given the music.  Early in the morning I do not wish to hear the overture to a rousing opera, something gentle and soothing, especially as I was then told I was 24th in the queue! 
I held.

The message was repeated

I held.

All this time I realised I was paying for this and minutes were passing at the most expensive time of the day.   

I held.

A message about something else (I forget what) came and went.

The music continued.

I held.

Having heard the music, the intro message three times, the forgotten, urgent, message three times and began to dislike the opera even though I could not remember who the composer was and then I was told I was in 2nd place.

I held.

Music again.

Then the phone rang!

I held.

Eventually a woman come on and after explaining slowly what I wanted, I held while she searched her screen, I discovered the doctor would phone me, most likely because she did not want me bringing virii into the surgery.

I then awaiting her call.

An hour or so later she called, referred to last weeks notes, managed to avoid calling me a fat lump but decided I may need statins.  What?  Only old fat people take these!

As the young lady had spent seven years training I decided to accept her wishes.  This then meant collecting a form from the Stasi, how dangerous, and heading off to the hospital to have blood taken.

Naturally this cannot be done at the surgery unless it is urgent, I am not urgent.  

So this afternoon, hoping they would be in a happy mood I actually entered the building and  met the girls face to face, except for the mask and the perpex screen they hide behind.  

I explained, she looked bewildered, I explained in English, she muttered, her friends looked around or at their screens.  Soon a bot off paper was proferred to me, instructions given to call and make a date, and get out!

Back home I called.

"The Blood Taking department is closed."   

"However, you can book online at Mumble mumble, mumble."

I had to phone back to ensure I got the address right.

This however worked!

After faffing around I got registered, booked in for Friday at 3:10 pm, and the bloodsucker will remove an armfull and have the lab investigate what this reveals.  

In many ways the system is very good.  But the faffing around, the 15 minutes at expensive phone time, and the bother for someone who has no idea what he is doing is stressful.  Especially as I have done nothing since yon time.

However, I am grateful that this is a good surgery, that the NHS is still alive, and that they are around the corner and not miles away.  Things could be a lot worse.

Mind you, depending on the results I may have to go through all this again!