The Doctor and Me.

He seemed singularly unimpressed by the range of symptoms and the stages through which my little fatigue problem has passed. He said it was probably just my body playing up after a period of concerted stress. He tested my blood pressure and pulse. ‘Both a little bit high, but not seriously so and it’s only to be expected in the circumstances,’ he said. He listened to my lungs and made no comment. Eventually he told me it could be this, or it could be that, or it could be something else. Tomorrow I have to go for a blood test.

The really surprising thing, though, was what he said to me shortly after I started to describe the symptoms. He asked me to be more concise, since patients are only allowed ten minutes and I’d had four already. I said I’d do my best in the six remaining minutes. I expect I probably said it with attitude. I usually do, and I intended it that way.

In all my years I’ve never heard a doctor say that or anything like it. I expect it had something to do with the current drive for reform of the NHS. I expect it had something to do with targets, since politicians are well known for valuing numbers above needs. It’s all about saving money, while appearing to the gullible to be about greater efficiency.

The NHS is probably the brightest jewel in the crown of Britishness, but politicians would rather see it eroded than tax the rich to pay for it. All the major political parties claim to be ‘the guardians of the NHS,’ but it seems we’re likely to follow the American model, in which health care is unashamedly weighted in favour of the rich.

OK. No more preaching about the free market mentality. Not today.