June 1974
Aged 19, I turned up on a Saturday morning, no appointment, to see the GP who'd known me since before I was born. Just sit in the waiting room and you'd be called in order of arrival. Lovely man, Dr. N, with a handlebar moustache, a bow tie and a pristine white coat. He was usually smoking a pipe during consultations. One of his five sons had been at the same school as me.
After a quick examination the doc handed me a prescription and said, "Try this for a week and pop in next Saturday if things are no better". On hearing that I wasn't available next Saturday because I was getting married, he leapt to his feet, threw his arms around me and said "My dear girl, I'm so pleased for you!"
The medication worked, as he knew it would; I never saw Dr. N again because I moved away after the wedding.
April 11 2024
I don't know if my GP still works at the surgery or even if he's still alive. However, I rang this morning to ask for an appointment. After explaining my symptoms to a completely uninterested receptionist, she asked me to send a photo of the offending body-part and informed me in her best I-couldn't-care-less voice, "Someone will ring you back".
Someone...? Which particular someone? Doctor, nurse, part-time cleaner? I said "Thank you very much", although why I was thanking her I don't know.
90 minutes later the in-house pharmacist rang, asked me to go through the symptoms again and told me to send a picture.
"I already have", I said. "Really?" came the reply.
The very valuable medical advice she gave me was "Take ibuprofen and come back to us if there's still a problem."
I've just booked an appointment with a private GP...
To calm my fury I went into the kitchen and made a big batch of this Spiced Butternut and Lentil soup for lunch. Highly recommended and it makes loads!