...Think, Think, Think...

Merry Christmas!

I'm at home with my parents today and I'm just about to go downstairs for presents and Bucks Fizz, but I wanted to wish you all a very merry Christmas.  I hope everyone has a wonderful day, gets some quality time with their loved ones and some lovely presents from Santa, not to mention stuffs themselves silly with something yummy..

Lots of Love!

Beth x

Another NHS-Based Rant

In theory and on paper, the idea of free healthcare for all is great.

In reality, I don't think it works.

Since I reached adulthood, I've had an astonishingly hard time getting any doctors to take any problems seriously (and I don't have many!).

About 4 months ago, I noticed a mole I've got was being itchy.  Like really itchy.  So as we're all instructed, I go to my GP and tell him.  He tells me that this happens sometimes, not to worry, come back if anything changes.

That brings us forward to about 2 weeks ago.  Its gotten bigger.  Not massively bigger, my torso hasn't been engulfed by a state of mole-yness or anything, but its definitely bigger.

I go back to the GP and see someone different who looks, says he doesn't think there's a problem but to be on the safe side he'll refer me to "plastics" to have it removed and that I'll have an appointment within 3 weeks.  I finally felt as if I'd seen a doctor who took something seriously and I was actually quite pleased.

I guess I was filling in a gap, because I get a call on Friday afternoon telling me the appointment will be today at 4pm.  Thanks for the notice there, plenty of time to arrange things.

Fortunately my company is good about this sort of stuff so no one minded when I left at 3:30pm today to go to the hospital.  I did end up playing the voicemail they left me to a colleague though, I worried it looked a bit suspicious that I'm asking to leave early 2 days before christmas.

I arrived at the hospital at 3:50pm.  Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

At about 4:10pm (my appointment was at 4pm, remember) I get called in by the nurse and told to wait in another room.

This room is what can only be described as neapolitan-ice-cream-hell.  The floor is that patterned lino that was very chic in 1973, in a fetching shade of sage green.  The walls were cheap ice-cream pink.  It was awful.

Here, I wait some more.

And more.

And a little more until at 4:20pm the doctor calls me in.  I go into another room where he looks at the mole, asks if I've got any others, measures it and then says this:

"If it gets any wider, call my secretary.  Not if you THINK it gets wider, if it actually does.  And if it gets black spots.  Not dark chocolate brown, but black, coal dust black, then thats a concern and you should call.  Other than that, we'll refer you for a routine removal and that should happen sometime in the winter or the spring, depending how busy we are."

That was it.  I wait half an hour (which I know isn't long, but when you're just sat there with other shit to do its ages) for no more than 2 minutes with the doctor who didn't really do anything anyway.

So now I wait and see when they can fit me in.  Some time in the winter or spring, so any time between now and about May I suppose. 

If I was a grown up that didn't have quite so much debt, I'd go private.  I'm sure there's some sort of system in place where if they decide you're rich enough they keep you alive.  Anyone not paying for their healthcare can just wait and if you take a turn for the worse between the assessment and your appointment its a bonus...potentially you'll die and it'll be one less drain on the resource.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm going to die, I don't think its that serious but they really don't do much to put your mind at ease if you are worried.

So, how did everyone elses Christmas week start?  Well, I hope!

Why I don't belong at the Gym

In my previous post I mentioned that I'd joined the gym, which I have.

I haven't been very many times.  I've been ill, injured or busy and so it hasn't been top of my priority list but I plan on sorting that out.

Other than hating exercise, I have one other teeny problem with going.  Every time I do, it seems I humiliate myself.

A couple of weeks back when I was there, I decided that I'd go out to the pool, have a few minutes in the sauna and a little splash in the jacuzzi just to relax.  To get poolside, you have to use your swipe key and they're waterproof so it doesn't matter if you get it wet.

So, I sauna, I jacuzzi and then decide to go home.  I walk over to the gate to get back into the changing room.  There's a little black pad on the top of the gates, which looks like the one you swipe the key over.

I swipe.  Nothing happens.

I swipe again.  Still nothing.

I wonder if its because the key is wet, so I blow on it to try and dry it (I'm ina bikini and have no towel!).  Nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, a voice from the pool behind me shouts "Push the green button".

There was a green button on the front of the turnstile that you push and it opens.  I didn't see it.  How embarassing.

Thats not all folks, oh no.  It seems that I am destined to embarass myself at poolside.

Last time I was there, I decided that I'd go and sit under the jets that spray water down onto your shoulders/back.  I'm in the pool.  I push the button.  Nothing.  I push the button again.  Nothing.  I'm now looking up at the jet and pushing the button repeatedly to get it to work. 

You can guess what happens.  Right in the face.  Cue sound of me choking on water.

Fortunately there were only a couple of people who saw me and so I just pretended they weren't there and went about my business, trying to ease some of the tension that has taken up permanent residence in my shoulders.

After I'd finished in the pool, I go back to my locker and grab my shower stuff.  I had a nice shower and reached out of the cubicle to grab my towel...

Its at this point that I realise I have picked up a hand towel.  It doesn't meet in the middle.  Oh dear.

I try and work out how I'm going to hold the towel to maintain the most modesty and end up holding it at the back, so the line of bare flesh is the centre of my back and the crack of my ass.  Nice. 

I get back to my locker, put the key in and it won't go in all the way.  I fight with it for 20 seconds or so and eventually it goes into the lock.

Then it won't turn.  I've got half a towel on, my shower stuff under one arm and I'm trying to keep covered.  Its not happening.  I struggle on a bit longer and eventually decide that all I can do is drop the towel and shower stuff and put all my strength into undoing the lock.

I'm a gym disaster waiting for somewhere to happen...