Author's Note: This is in no way meant to be a political statement about the pros or cons or apathy related to National Health or the lack thereof, or the current, past or future policies in either Great Britain or The United States of America. I tend to have intense loathing of all things medical when it comes to my own personal health; this did not change with my moving over the pond. The practice I am referring to in this blurb is in a small town in rural England. Whether the events of this day could or would happen in an alternate locale is unbeknownst to me. 'Cause I only experienced this particular, well...experience.
As new residents of England, John and I have had to register with a medical practice in our district. For us, that means the practice located in Playden. I really had no idea what to expect, and after watching one too many shows like Downton Abbey it became clear to me that my expectations were something on the order of Florence Nightingale and her compatriots. I did not expect a modern, gleaming, high tech, fully automated medical practice. The place even has automatic doors! PBS has really done a number on my thinking of all things British. Anyhoo, I was pleasantly surprised.
Our appointments were for 10:10 this morning. We hunkered down with the Sunday newspapers, two novels, an assortment of magazines, an apple and a Leicester cheese sandwich for what we knew would be an interminable wait. After all, today is Monday. And Monday morning appointment is English for full waiting room. At 10:00 am, John was called back to the exam room. He looked at his watch. Surely this must be a mistake! His was just a lab appointment anyway, so that must be the explanation. My appointment was for an actual first patient visit. We had made plans to make a morning of it in the waiting room.
I had just read the first two pages of my latest Kindle download, when I was rudely interrupted at 10:10 to go to room 9. I gathered up my mobile library and lunch cart and headed down the hall. Great. Now I have to spend the next two hours perched atop one of those exam tables with the goal posts on the end trying not to slip on the rolly paper and end up on the floor. Not my idea of a proper reading experience. I had no sooner gotten "comfortable" on this torture device when the practitioner came into the room. How rude! I didn't even get to eat a bite of my sandwich. Sigh.
The exam was thorough. I mean she actually talked to me. She offered different classes and set me up to do fasting labs at my next visit. She was actually interested in what I had to say. She took a complete family history and did not one time burst into uncontrollable giggles. What is this strange and marvellous place we have stumbled on? Do folks in the UK allow other countries to believe the National Health Service is crap so they can sneakily produce a healthier, happier population for world domination?
At the conclusion of my appointment, I was sent to schedule my labs and follow-up visit. The receptionist apologised and told me it would be awhile before I could get back in. There! I knew it! They trick you into thinking it is perfect and the next thing you know it is six months before you can get a follow-up. The receptionist gave me an appointment for Dec 3. Um, that is only eight days away. She again apologised at the length of time between appointments. My mouth hung open in absolute disbelief.
I finished making my appointment, and as I was gathering my unused waiting room accoutrement, I heard a commotion at the desk. It seems one of the patients had been waiting an "inexcusably long time" for his appointment. Okay. I am new, and obviously they want me to buy into this whole great, free, accessible care over here. He is a local, and as so must get less than stellar treatment. The man continued with ranting "my appointment was at 10:30 and it is now 10:35. This is unacceptable". Are you kidding? As he continued his shouting, his name was called to the exam room. At 10:36. The receptionist apologised for the scene and explained that folks in our area expect that if their appointment is at 10:30, they should be walking in to greet the doctor at 10:30. Wow. I sure hope he never needs medical care on my home planet...
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