The Grumpy Old Blog

Some people moan and groan about the NHS. Not me.   I had an NHS "lung check" for the over-65's today, booked via my GP in one of those complicated mobile units, complete with mobile scanner, for 15:50 today. I was seen at 15:50, and following confirmation that I do in fact have two lungs, I was sent on my way by 16:15, no scan needed. However, Paul the Medic (for it was he; Pat the Postman was out on his rounds), noticed that my left ankle was somewhat swollen, and suggested I book a GP appointment, which I did by popping/hopping into my GP surgery (which I had to walk past to get back home, avoiding the middle of the Lidl next door to the practice, which invariably relieves me of money for its special offers such as a cement mixer or 2-person submersible). The surgery booked me in for inspection by the lovely Dr Bhatnagar (who is always worth seeing, ailment or not. She is the medical equivalent of Jessica Alba, who, as a result, when she takes my blood pressure, the fi...

  Headed off to A&E at Bolton with a stomach ulcer (to be confirmed, although medical staff suspected same from the "tarry" state of my presented human remains, delicately gift-wrapped in a ZipLok bag) at 7.45 Monday, c/o phone call with emergency doctor telling me to go immediately to hospital, not to pass "Go" and not to collect £200. Had bloods taken at 22:45. Enjoyed night sitting and dozing on wonderful, haemorrhoid-inducing metal chair in A&E with some 45 other overly-patient patients. Gentleman arrived writhing in pain from a kidney stone at 12.30am and was allowed to comfortably writhe on the floor for 40 min before someone was free from clearing up from the gang warfare that people with nice clean knife wounds and their police "observers" were causing. Gentleman with obvious issues wandering around the ward at 2.45am in a silver preservation blanket doing his impression of Father Jack from "Father Ted" ("Drink, drink, feck, ...