I got round to calling my doctors this afternoon to make the urgent appointment regarding my blood pressure. Obviously this is not simple even in my quiet little village because this is the beast that we call the NHS.
Around 5 calls took place all of which were answered by the automatic system which proceeded to lead me through when I could and couldn’t book appointments, collect scripts ( I was unaware they were theatrical agents) and obtain results.
Because I live in a sleepy village the technology of an answering service was apparently such a wonder that everybody got a go. All of the instructions were given by different people and then the obligatory ‘unusually high call volume’ message was delivered by a theatrical man and a busy sounding woman in rotation.
On the fifth call I reached the holy grail of a human voice and I asked for a Friday or Monday “we can do a Thursday”
“but that’s not a Friday or Monday”
“we have none of those”
“No but we can do a Tuesday”
“I can only do Monday or Fridays”
“Oh are you a worker?” said like it was a dirty word.
“Why yes I am”
“We do Tuesday nights for workers”
“I work away”
“We only have Tuesdays and Thursdays”
Fearing that NHS cuts had reduced them to a 2 day week I asked how long this situation was due to continue and apparently it was forever. Some debate revealed that its not that they are on short weeks its that their diary only extends for 6 weeks, they clearly have no idea what comes after that it could be oblivion.
But all is ok, I can call the loony answering machine and make an emergency appointment on the day, its not an emergency of course but by the time they see me it may well be!
Positive news, I managed 25 press ups today and I can’t wait to tell the physio. . .