Tuesday, June 07, 2005

I'll start with a rant!

I don’t really want this blog. I had to create it ‘coz I wanted to leave a comment on someone else’s blog, but they had their setting to only accept comments from other bloggers. Even having created this blog, I wasn’t going to bother writing anything, but hey, I want a moan, and there’s no one about to listen to me; so why not?

Not that I actually have a lot to moan about in my life, on the whole I’m extremely lucky. But, (and this is something you men should take heed of) a woman feels better about things she wants to gripe about, if it is said out loud and I’m going to see if this works on paper (so to speak).

The irritation of the day is doctors*, or rather their fees. Last week, a Saturday to be precise, my two daughters were invited to a party. What made this party special, was it was the first my youngest had ever been invited to (which in itself deserves a gripe, as she attends the same nursery as her sister, has the same friends, and yet is consistently ignored by other mothers planning parties). S was delighted and counted the days as though it was her own party she was going to (she’s never had one).

It was wonderful, the sun was shining, there was a bouncy castle, face painting, and bubble machines. Unfortunately, one hour into the party my eldest daughter, J, complained of a headache. Usually I would have brought her home immediately, but S was next in line for the face painting and J was happy to sit quietly with me. But within half an hour her temperature was rocketing and she was looking decidedly shaky, and indeed just as I explained to S that we had to leave, J began chucking up (which is a delightful way to become the centre of attention!).

Once home J quickly got worse despite the calpol, ibuprofen, and sponging down. When her temperature went over 102 I began to panic and telephoned the doctor to come out (something I luckily, have never had to do for any of my four children before). Quickly reassured it wasn’t anything life threatening, she went on antibiotics and I thought little more about the visit. Though it did turn out to be a rather vicious virus, which duly worked its way through the entire family.

Then yesterday happened. For seven years (I’ll gripe about this another time) I have had various minor aliments that I occasionally mention when I see my doctor, he’s never very impressed and mutters about growing older, exercising more, etc,etc. However, I had to have a blood test ‘coz I’m taking part in a breast cancer research thing, and as I was paying £25 for the appointment I thought I would again mention my aliments (only this time, all at once). Suddenly it seems, there could well be something amiss and having asked further questions, he announced we should start with some blood tests. Trouble is I’d had toast for breakfast and apparently this won’t do – so I have to go back (and pay again) next week.

As I was leaving, and paying my £25 consultation fee, I asked about J’s bill. Well bloody hell, they want £90 for a ten minute visit that only took the doctor three minutes to drive to!! I managed to stutter a question as to why it was so dear, and was told it was after six in the evening. Umm, not really I explained; you see the doctor was making some notes as he was leaving and asked me the time. I sent my eldest lad into the kitchen and he came back and said ten-past-six, except it wasn’t because I keep my kitchen clock seven minutes fast so that I can get out the house on time in the mornings. The receptionist smiled knowingly, but wasn’t impressed.

So here I am stuck with the bill. I mean for crying out loud, this is a child we’re talking about and it’s not like it was two in the morning! I’ve even called other surgeries in the area and asked about their call out fees, and guess what? No-one else charges that! (alright, some are close)

This really pisses me off, that’s a weeks food shopping to me (and yes I live on a budget) this must put people off calling the doctor out, and what if, next time it isn’t so benign, but I’m broke? It’s no bloody wonder our A&E department is over run with aliments that should be seen by a GP – that’s where we’ll be next time! I thought being a doctor was supposed to be a calling, not a get rich quick scheme. It’s down-right greedy and verges on the immoral. Although I will say, he was a very nice doctor – BUT NOT NINETY BLOODY QUID NICE!

Debi (who’s feeling better already!)


* Apologies to my Aunt and Uncle (who are both doctors, though unfortunately several hundred miles away) and Doug (who’s even further away) and all other hard working, dedicated doctors not making a mint off me to pay for their summer holidays (which incidentally, I haven’t be able to afford for six years!).

4 Comments:

Blogger Deborah said...

the doctor came to your house? That rocks. I've never had a doctor come to my house--unless you count that one time when I was in fourth grade and the little boy next door told me he was a doctor and asked me to please lift my shirt so he could listen to my heart.

Thursday, June 09, 2005 3:09:00 pm  
Blogger Jona said...

It doesn't count unless he made you hand over all your money for the privilege!! (I'm not really bitter...)

Thursday, June 09, 2005 3:40:00 pm  
Blogger Douglas Hoffman said...

Yeah, that's it, blame me for your blog ;o)

This is good reading, Deb. Keep it up.

I've made a few housecalls in my time, always to ingrates.

Friday, June 10, 2005 7:20:00 pm  
Blogger Who is this Dave? said...

I knew there was sone advantage to living in mainland Britain. No doctors fees. Nothing else great about the NHS, but at least it's mostly free.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005 1:05:00 pm  

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