‘I expect he’s caused a sprained tendon,’ said I, poking my arm in the staff room. ‘It’ll get better with time.
‘You need to go to your G.P NOW!’ barked the then headteacher.
‘Okay,’ said I, because at least it meant I got to go home early.
In the G.P practice, the G.P said, ‘You’ve got a sprained tendon. It’ll get better with time.’
Sigh…only eight years ago and you could see your G.P the same day. How times have changed. Never mind! We’ll have a Labour government come Friday morning. I expect they’ll sort things out with great efficiency. Ahahahahahahahahahaha…HA!
Anyway, yesterday I found myself trying to book an appointment on-line, not because I am worried about this issue but because Andy is. It was an act of appeasement, really. I filled out the online form, which took 15 minutes and basically consisted of me saying the same thing over and over again. By the time I was feeling weary with it all, and reminiscing about the days when you could just telephone and book an appointment there and then, the message came up that the form was complete and I could press ‘Send’ and almost immediately I received an email saying I would receive a call-back within the next 48 hours. And if I didn’t, then I was to use the link in the email to make a nuisance of myself. At least, that was the underlying suggestion.
Of course, I was bound to the house for the rest of the day because I’d given the landline number for a call back on account of the mobile signal here being a bit wafty. The only call I received was from a drainage company whom I’d called last Friday because I think Vladimir needs a camera investigation up his pipes.
Late afternoon, I received an email from the surgery saying that my issue could not be dealt with by a callback and needed a face-to-face appointment for triage purposes. And that I needed to call the practice reception at either 8.30 a.m or 2 p.m in order to book an appointment. Sheesh…
At 8.32 this morning I was on that phone line. I was informed by electronic message that I was ‘currently Number 23 in the queue and please hold.’
Did you know that the plinky plonky ‘on hold’ music lasts for bursts of 20 seconds, followed by two messages of twenty seconds each in a nice, neat one minute round of irritation?
Message One: ‘Did you know that if you have a cough, cold, blocked nose or sore throat you can get quick and friendly advice from your local pharmacist?’
Well, yes I did. Also, I would not be calling for a G.P appointment for a cough, cold, blocked nose or sore throat. I mean, who does that? Good grief, are people so incompetent about sorting themselves out with minor ailments these days?
Message Two: ‘As we recognise the number you are calling from, did you know you can request a callback instead of waiting in the queue? Press 1 on your keypad to use this service.’
And be stuck indoors glued to the landline waiting for a callback AGAIN? No thank you. Besides, by now I was getting into the swing of things. Dancing to the music, doing squats to the music, watching the birds gobbling up sunflower seeds from the dovecote at a great rate of knots, playing Monkey Tug with Nell.
In between these messages and bits of music I was constantly updated as to where I was currently in the queue. That was quite thrilling, especially when at one point I moved up three places in quick succession. There were also too many ‘Sorry to keep you waiting’ messages. No, you’re not. Waiting in a queue is just one of those things. If you were really sorry you’d employ more receptionists. Pah!
After 24 minutes, my call was answered. I was just getting to the point of wondering if you got cut off at 9 a.m and have to try again at 2 p.m. Well, hurrah this did not happen, and I was offered a sit and wait today with a nurse practitioner - ‘Turn up between 10.30 and 11 but you might be waiting until 1p.m’ or an appointment with an actual doctor on 29th July a.k.a four weeks away. Good job I’m not feeling urgent, eh? To be fair, the first message that was delivered when I dialled the practice number was that if I was having an emergency I should call 999. Doh.
Anyway, I opted for the sit and wait today because I need to go into town on other matters so I can kill two birds with one stone. And if the nurse is any good she’ll confirm what I am pretty sure I know already and peace will reign once more chez Malarkey Manor.
Goodness, but day-to-day life is hard work sometimes. I shall take a book with me to the surgery. Nice bit of downtime to catch up with some reading.
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KJ