Smug Doctors and Dangling Ends.

You know, the problem with doctors – and especially young, inexperienced doctors – is that they appear to be under the delusion that anyone who isn’t a doctor must be, de facto, sorely lacking in both intelligence and erudition. So if the doctor I wrote about the other night had said ‘You have hypertension’ I could have replied ‘Well, of course I have hypertension. That’s because I’m rarely less than tense to a hyper degree.’ This would have confirmed his suspicions and prompted an even greater degree of smugness than is the norm. ‘No,’ he would have continued ‘hypertension is a disease characterised by worryingly high blood pressure.’ And then I could have smiled knowingly and said ‘I know, but I’m a writer, you see, and I do so like making words into patterns.’ And maybe it would have confused him utterly until he went pouf and disappeared up his own stethoscope.

And on that subject, the appointment with the rapid access chest pain clinic which I also wrote about was cancelled by voicemail this morning. Apparently, it’s because they have to be reassured that the medication has stabilised the hypertension before they’ll let me in, and that means going back to the smug young doctor to have my blood pressure tested again. I can’t help feeling that there’s something not entirely rational about this, but what would I know, ignorant dolt that I am.

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I spent much of today tying up several loose ends – you know, the type of ends you leave dangling because you really can’t be bothered. Unfortunately, at least two of the ends continue to dangle.

I also spent some time in the garden applying pain and discomfort to my injured arm again. I don’t mind pushing through the pain (just so I don’t get some woman telling me ‘you should try becoming a mother, mate’.) What concerns me is the possibility that I might do some lasting damage. I suppose I should really make an appointment to see a physio.

And I had a reply from Rachel (see previous post.) She said ‘you know where I am if you need owt.’ (‘Owt’ is a northern English dialect word for ‘anything’, in case you didn’t know.) Wasn’t that splendid? But of course, I wouldn’t dream of targeting her if I have further difficulty with the company she works for, since what sort of reward would that be for her good offices? I’m really a very considerate sort of person, you know, who wants nothing more than to spread light and childish banter among my fellow beings. Even doctors when appropriate.