Walking up to the doctor, my hobble became slightly less so. This is a recurring theme for me. You wake up and think, 'I really do need a trip to the doctor'. And then, when faced with the GP, you think, 'perhaps I didn't need to visit the doctor quite so much'. It's as if by sheer force of seeing these highly-paid public servants, you get a bit better.
That said, my knee was making a funny clicking sound, and I was having trouble descending stairs. A lifetime of hearing about footballers doing their anterior cruciate - a six month layoff at least - meant I should get it checked out.
The doctor was a young Asian woman, perhaps younger than I. She sat at her desk with that posture and look on her face which spoke of confidence, almost arrogance. I eased myself into the seat, making a thing of it.
I explained the situation. Trip to the Lakes; Scafell, Striding Edge (yes, that's right, both in two days). Subsequent knee pain. She was unimpressed. It was clear that if you didn't have cholera or plague, you were wasting her time.
She got me on the bed, and waggled my knee about. I yelped. She said there wasn't any fluid - and left it at that. Had I not done my cruciate? Would I not be out from my desk job for the next six months?
The doctor went back to her desk; I followed, gingerly.
She told me I had a bit of swelling, and I should take some paracetemol for a week and if things had not improved to come back. She turned back to her computer as a way of concluding our interview.
Feeling shortchanged from my free appointment, I reflected that GPs often dealing with people very much as IT support staff do. GPs suggest a week of paracetemol just the same as IT support suggest switching your computer off and turning it back on again.
And the galling thing is that it nearly always works.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment