rant against Royal Mail brought forth some useful information from readers, so
maybe I can have a go at another of our ailing public services. The NHS, or to be more precise, my own General Practitioner.
The flu I had a month ago has not truly gone
away. I don’t feel unwell any more but I am left with, sorry if you are just
about to eat your dinner, a mucus factory on overtime. Breathing is an effort
and I am tiring too quickly, so I thought it was about time I saw the quack.
Knowing that phoning is a waste of time, especially after 9 a.m. I went to the surgery in person. I waited a minute or so while the receptionist told a phone caller that there were no appointments available and then I was told the same thing. “There is nothing you can book.”
I reminded the receptionist that neglect by my doctor, or at least the appointment system he operates, had put me into hospital four times in the last few years (†) and that my complaint to the practice manager is still unanswered after 15 months. She must have felt sorry for me because I now have an appointment for next week. If of course Dr. Adagra of the Bexley Group Practice has not kicked me off his book by then. Last time I managed to see a doctor I was told that my prescription record is 40 times lower than the average for patients of my age, which is a number I considered to be at a truly horrendous level. You’d think a relatively healthy patient would be a good one to retain, but not this one. Anyone know of a doctor that can do better than mine? Shouldn’t be hard.
† Two incidents. One caused an emergency trip to QEH by ambulance, the other two ultra scans and an invasive procedure. All the direct result of delay and neglect at the aforesaid surgery.