Saturday, March 11, 2006
More Medical Hell
So I finally made it to the MRI yesterday evening. I chose Friday night in the hope that no-one else would want to go then, so I might get seen quickly.
Ha.
I sat in the waiting room for two hours. Doctors flitted past, and occasionally called out names - about one every twenty minutes or so would be my guess - and eventually, six o'clock came, and most of them went home with the shift-change. A new doctor arrived, who was dressed entirely in motorcycle leathers.
Five minutes later, I was called into his office. At this point, I was well pissed off. First of all, I think a two-hour wait gives a lie to the name 'walk-in centre.' Now, not only did this doctor not bother asking how long I'd waited or apologise for it, he had the temerity to keep me waiting an extra five minutes while he extricated himself from his stupid leather condom-like adornments. Pardon me for seeming old-fashioned, but I think doctors should turn up to work in a suit, or at least a lab-coat. Certainly something respectable.
I have a fair few prejudices in life, and one of the ones I am willing to acknowledge is a prejudice against motorcyclists. If there has ever been a mode of transportation that yelled 'penis extension' quite so loudly, then I don't know what it is. Then there's the accidents - a very good friend of mine used to ride a bike (though I'm sure he is adequately equipped downstairs) and he never seemed to stop crashing. It is as if they take a perverse pleasure in the probability of their ending up in a horrific accident, possibly with their severed limbs thrown all over the road. I mean, I'm all in favour of living dangerously, but there's danger, and then there's trying to commit suicide through the back door. Plus, they're always such boring bastards. I can't stand people talking about the specifications of their cars all the time, but at least that's preferable to long-winded anecdotes about how the rider skipped a massive traffic jam by driving up the middle of the road until someone opened their car door and knocked them off. Yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn.
So, I wasn't exactly enamoured with the doc when I went in. He proceeded to see me for thirty seconds, not bothering to examine me, before only giving me a months worth of meds while making the not-so-subtle implication that I was trying to somehow con him. He accused me of not having a GP, despite the fact that I had already explained the situation that my GP was 150 niles away. By the time he (nearly physically) ejected me from his office, I wanted to beat him over the head with his helmet until they carried him down the hall to A & E.
Ha.
I sat in the waiting room for two hours. Doctors flitted past, and occasionally called out names - about one every twenty minutes or so would be my guess - and eventually, six o'clock came, and most of them went home with the shift-change. A new doctor arrived, who was dressed entirely in motorcycle leathers.
Five minutes later, I was called into his office. At this point, I was well pissed off. First of all, I think a two-hour wait gives a lie to the name 'walk-in centre.' Now, not only did this doctor not bother asking how long I'd waited or apologise for it, he had the temerity to keep me waiting an extra five minutes while he extricated himself from his stupid leather condom-like adornments. Pardon me for seeming old-fashioned, but I think doctors should turn up to work in a suit, or at least a lab-coat. Certainly something respectable.
I have a fair few prejudices in life, and one of the ones I am willing to acknowledge is a prejudice against motorcyclists. If there has ever been a mode of transportation that yelled 'penis extension' quite so loudly, then I don't know what it is. Then there's the accidents - a very good friend of mine used to ride a bike (though I'm sure he is adequately equipped downstairs) and he never seemed to stop crashing. It is as if they take a perverse pleasure in the probability of their ending up in a horrific accident, possibly with their severed limbs thrown all over the road. I mean, I'm all in favour of living dangerously, but there's danger, and then there's trying to commit suicide through the back door. Plus, they're always such boring bastards. I can't stand people talking about the specifications of their cars all the time, but at least that's preferable to long-winded anecdotes about how the rider skipped a massive traffic jam by driving up the middle of the road until someone opened their car door and knocked them off. Yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn.
So, I wasn't exactly enamoured with the doc when I went in. He proceeded to see me for thirty seconds, not bothering to examine me, before only giving me a months worth of meds while making the not-so-subtle implication that I was trying to somehow con him. He accused me of not having a GP, despite the fact that I had already explained the situation that my GP was 150 niles away. By the time he (nearly physically) ejected me from his office, I wanted to beat him over the head with his helmet until they carried him down the hall to A & E.
Comments:
<< Home
Yes, bikers are wankers. I hate motorists as well, but i've come into contact with a great many bikers through my fathers old motorcycle shop and involvement in motorcycle racing. Many seem to be maladjusted, paranoid and overly aggressive tossers. They also tend to ride things that are far too powerful for their meagre riding abilities.
Ill Man - Motorbike racing is fine. I quite like watching it actually - far more overtaking than cars, or so it seems - but it's a vehicle for the race-track really.
Happy - I do indeed! You have a point about the need for confidence. I can't feel confident at all in a man who looked about twenty and was strutting around like he thought he was Valentino Rossi. To be honest, I'm almost glad I've been told not to go back, because wild horses couldn't make me see him again.
Happy - I do indeed! You have a point about the need for confidence. I can't feel confident at all in a man who looked about twenty and was strutting around like he thought he was Valentino Rossi. To be honest, I'm almost glad I've been told not to go back, because wild horses couldn't make me see him again.
Steve, i'm a closet petrol head who hates all road users.
Valentino Rossi is a bloody genius. Bikes are fun to watch, F1 is chess on wheels.
Valentino Rossi is a bloody genius. Bikes are fun to watch, F1 is chess on wheels.
You must be joking. Friday night is the busiest night!
Try early on, but not in lunch hour.
I hate doctors too.
xxB
Try early on, but not in lunch hour.
I hate doctors too.
xxB
I think most sensible people do. I reckon it's a subliminal reaction to the fact that they have the 'life or death' power. Still, I'd rather know a doctor than a dentist, although it's a close run thing.
Post a Comment
<< Home
