May or May Not…

I’ve spoken about The National Health before and although its screenings are regular and there is good care available for everyone, if you can wait the sixteen weeks from referral to action, there are some moments when we’ve had to smile.

We were very ill when we arrived in May.  A combination of moving rapidly 4000 miles clear across America and the Atlantic, after selling our home of 28 years, and giving up our youngest son in marriage after 25, apparently knocked us for six.

Not to mention a whole new set of airborne pollens and other allergens plus bacteria and viruses laying siege to our upper respiratory systems.

Our General Practitioner across the road told us to,

“Man it up and work through it all.”

We did with the generous help of Ibuprofen and Paracetamol, even some laced with Codeine.

After exhaustive days and sleepless nights I stumbled upon a doctor at the practice who wasn’t  shy of dispensing antibiotics…not that I’m a fan but after a lingering cough and cold, head and ear ache and long bouts of lethargy I thought a prescription with any combination of ‘cillin would do the trick.

Daughts’ and my New Doctor was writing prescriptions as we spoke through bouts of coughing and sniffing.  She became our all time favourite doctor despite her startling show girl make-up and mini skirts.  She ooo’ed and nodded sympathetically as her fingers whizzed across her keyboard and her printer clacked into action.  Handing us our prescriptions with a dazzling red lipsticked smile she sent us on our ways.  Smiling!

Hubs persisited in his curmudgeon-ness until he desperately needed some pain killers for the knee he was having problems with,

“If you can’t walk how will you collect the refill from my office?” his doctor asked on the phone.

“I’ll send my wife.”

Hubs has since found a new Primary Carer and is much happier.  He said Daughts would be happier too as he is a handsome fellow.  Daughts is in the Balkans cruising and has her own doctor tales to tell.  Smile!

We hadn’t been back a month when Hubs was sent a little package in the mail… again… and an invitation to participate in a Bowel Cancer Screening.  He was so keen to share his good fortune that he called and asked for another kit for me, but the nurse said I wasn’t old enough yet!  Haha Laughing!

While he was in screening mode he also had a comprehensive blood test ordered with all kinds of boxes ticked by the kind young medic including cholesterol and prostate.  He was to call in a week for the results.  Apart from a slight elevation in lipids, caused by the unbeatable taste of Mature English Cheddar, all tests were negative.

Smiling hard now!

With both screenings a booklet was enclosed outlining what to expect when the results were released.

In essence it boiled down to:

If the test is negative you may still have cancer.

If the test is positive you may not have cancer.

May or May Not, how confusing is that and what was the point?

Triage working on all fronts of The National Health I’m told.  Tee Hee.

For his poor aching knee hubs was prescribed an MRI after his X-ray showed no bone or muscle damage.

He waited and waited for an invitation to make the trek to The Princess Royal University Hospital, home of the MRI machine.  He waited so long he almost forgot until his knee nudged him uncomfortably.  He made a pro-active phone call to reactivate the appointment.

“Our machine is broken, we are waiting for the part.  There’s a massive back log.  If you can travel to another hospital we can put you on a list.”

“Yes please,” said hubs.  His knee spasmed.

At the end of the week he received a letter, The NHS is a fan of the British Mail System, and we noted he had an appointment for the coming Sunday at the PRU!  The MRI machine had been  repaired and catch up was the name of the game.

Now he’s waiting for the results to determine what’s the next step.

In the meantime the flat is becoming a popular tourist spot.





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