Wow! Blogger have launched new templates, so instead of writing I have spent the past wee while browsing and editing the layout of this new fangled thingy. I wish it would let me install my own image rather than it's own templates. Although the picture of the Bohemian room you see in the background may conjure up in your head images of my crazy, arty-farty lifestyle and my groovy pad... I am sorry to say that it has nothing to do with me. I live a very mundane life in a very conventional semi, in a very ordinary street. I can only hope that Doctor Who will arrive with Amy Pond and spice up my life with tales of aliens in my garden shed.
One benefit of my new Bohemian page is that I have enlarged the text so I can read it if I bend forward. My eyesight has always been perfect until about a year ago when I started to need specs for reading. Over the past six months it has deteriorated rapidly and I now use the strongest specs you can get from the pound shop. Going to a proper optician is out of the question when you are living on benefits. So much for clawing my way up from the gutter. Our pseudo middle-class lifestyle is now diminishing. I'm going back to my roots. We recently had our basic Sky TV package cut off (and it was basic, no films or sports). We have also had to go on the waiting list for an NHS dentist (there are mostly private dentists in our area which we have had to use up till now. The one NHS dentist is understandably prioritising children on his waiting list, we may be able to get on "in a few years time"). Am now praying to be toothache free for the next few years. Ain't the welfare state great!
Speaking of the welfare state... doctors... fuckin' doctors! AAAaaarrrgghhh!!!! Moonstone came to the house last week and asked the usual million questions and offered little in the way of responses. She did raise her eyebrows when I told her I had to stop taking chlorpromazine as it was giving me palpitations. That was her only real contribution. Other than that, just her usual silence and placid smile. Could I get something else to help chill me out? "No, let's wait and see how you go". Thanks so much, that's as much use as a cardboard fanny.
Something good did happen this week however. I got a temporary driving licence from the DVLA for one year. I'm limited to certain vehicles, I'm no longer allowed to drive a minibus in case I go on a suicide mission (pity as I was planning to help the local doctors on their annual picnic). Instead I went fishing with my pal Enzo which I haven't done for... err.. at least a year I think. We had a great day and surprisingly even caught fish so the next night I made Thai green curried trout (I don't think they actually have trout in Thailand but it was beautiful!). I am addicted to chillies.
I got another summons through the post from Portillo (my GP) telling me again I needed an annual review as I had a chronic mental illness and could I please make another double appointment. So I reneged and did so. I was due to see him last night at 17:20. I got there early. There were only a couple of other folks waiting. I waited. I waited. I waited.17:20 came and went. At 17:25 he appeared, I was ready to stand up when he shouted in another person. Fuck! Not even, "I'll be with you in five minutes". What a bastard. By 17:30 I was the only person left in the waiting room. Everyone was packing up and going home. There is nobody on reception, only a self check-in touch screen, the imperial storm-troopers sit in a back office and avoid all human contact. Probably just as well. I start pacing around, walking the length of reception back and forth like a caged beast. As the minutes pass I get more and more agitated. At 17:40 I am staring at a patronising poster on the wall that says "40 hours wasted in the past six weeks by 625 patients not turning up for appointments"... Appointments!... why have them?... how many hours have been lost by patients waiting on fucking arrogant doctors who think they are superior beings above the human race?... I am fucking furious. I am ready for battle. I am almost running around the empty waiting room now. Doctors pass me on their way out, they give me a wide berth. Nobody asks "are you OK?", nobody says "sorry Portillo is running late, he will be with you shortly". Maybe they know if they speak to me I will punch their fuckin' lights out. Time drrrraaaaaaaaagggggggs unbelievable slowly.... I watch the clock 17: 43......17:43..... 1744..... eventually it is 17:50. I sit down. I stand up. I pace the floor... 17:51... I EXPLODE! I storm out, get in the car, floor the accelerator and drop the clutch, scream out of the car park and fly home in a fury. That's it. FUCK THE DOCTORS! All they ever do is ask me questions. I tell Mrs Mo to cancel Moonstone's Wednesday appointment. I never want to see any of them again. I am totally bemused at why I have carried on with this charade for five years. How could I have been such a fool? Why on earth have I never seen through their charade? They have interrogated me, drugged me, twisted my brain, destabilised me, broke my back, damaged my teeth, played mind games, hypnotised me and that can be the only reason why I have continued to see them. They have never helped me one iota. Just screwed me up. Deliberately fucked with my brain. I must use all my determination never to fall for their arguments and false logic and let myself be put in that vulnerable position again. I must never see a doctor again.