The doc’s main concern now seems to be keeping the wicked old demon, high blood pressure, at bay. Mine’s actually quite good for my age (140/80 was today’s reading, which also surprised me because I’d just spent half an hour being driven to distraction in the reception area by the inane babbling of some crappy radio programme, and the fact that there were two grammatical errors in the ‘We Won’t Tolerate Abuse’ notice on the video screen. The first thing I did when I entered the doc’s office was complain about it. Fortunately, my doctor is a pretty laid back, tolerant sort of chap. I recall spending most of one consultation discussing our favourite Laurel and Hardy films. And it’s all free…)
… but he still increased the anti-hypertension medication, the old reprobate. Fortunately, that’s all free too, since I no longer qualify for heavy labouring jobs. And he wants me to have another blood test in two weeks and another consultation with him in a month. It’s all a bit tiresome, you know. It is.
I think that will have to do for now. Do you realise that I’ve spent so much time writing recently (mostly emails) that I’ve made three attempts to watch the DVD of Hot Fuzz and am still only an hour into it?
Oh, and I might just mention that I was observing the staff in the surgery while I awaited my appointment, and realised that you can immediately tell which is a doctor, which is a nurse, and which is a receptionist purely by their body language and facial expressions. I suppose it made the stress worthwhile. (And the lady doctor – with whom I have never yet had the pleasure of a consultation – was second only to Doctor Helen in the gorgeousness stakes. I think I might try to arrange it one of these days if only I can live long enough.)
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