There are many painful memories I hold of my childhood, force-fed runner beans, hand-me-downs, and my older brother to name but a few, but missing from this list, thankfully, is the doctor.
My doctor, that shall remain nameless, has never been much of child person, but nevertheless he treated me well, served my needs, and did the job that my parents national insurance contributions had part-paid for. Its’ been several years since my last visit to a GP, and I can only assume he is now a rock star doctor with scantily clad bubble-head blondes hanging from his arms, a tour of his luxurious penthouse due for broadcast on Cribs, and an unmerited ego based solely on the affections of a public that don’t know him. I base this on the fact that i was denied access to him, which i find just ludicrous. It appears receptionists in your local surgery now double as bouncers. I now have to return 36 hours later than I originally needed attention, having suffered terribly and weathered the worst of my illness without any medical help, after booking myself in to HIS schedule as to not inconvenience him…and there was me assuming his professional time was supposed to be dedicated to us! I’m so naive.
Now, I could very easily rant for a few thousand words about the diabolical state of our health system, and how it is only deteriorating, but the sad sobering fact is that we all know this, and I was not surprised by my treatment (or lack of it).
The NHS was once a beacon that other countries aspired to, where did it all go so wrong?