Post 510: Hey Doc, what are you on?
Is there anything like having a chat to a person that’s fully committed to a bad idea and gives you a load of bullshit about it even though he’s wrong. That was the unexpected twist to my blood test report this afternoon. But first, in the morning I had an idea, in fact two ideas, or was it more?
I was dilly-daydream while I fed the cat his lovely rice-crispies and I decided to go back to bed because, I could.
The weakness and pains in my back since last week were getting better each day but having a day off from doing stuff on any morning was good, so I stayed in bed.
Idea one was to ask Accurx.NHS (the doctors surgery triage system) to see if anyone was going to report on the findings of my blood tests in regard to my cloudy right eye and wearer I have diabetes.
This would be the very first time I used the Accurx.NHS system and it seemed to work but I had no receipt to say that my inquiry had landed, the old system used to but this doesn’t, Hey Ho.
So that was done and out of my head. Idea two was taking shape inn the background which was the tattoo I wanted that would share a common bond with my daughter in law who’s going to be starting radiotherapy next week on her lymphoma. I said to her a while ago that I would get one but that’s where I left it; and where it was still hanging like an unfinished model that’s getting dusty because I can’t find time to fill out the final design of the paintwork.
This was intensified as a project that needs to be finished when we were in to see the tattoo guy Gary - who happened to be a work colleagues brother too, and was to be the artist that gives my Darling the memorial she dearly wants to have about her late brother Kev. Her date with his needle was tomorrow and I was thinking that I’d ask him about my idea of a double cancer ink celebrating beating the bastard thing.
So I had used an online gadget to draw up something like I wanted and I sent it to my Darling, my Daughter in law and the tattooist, which sort of makes it real. I just hope it looks good, it’s something I really really want.
Soon after that when my Darling had wandered past my open door along the upstairs landing I stopped her for a quick chat about a dinner today. The beautiful slow cooked stew had been eaten and finished and I didn’t know where the next dinner was coming from
so I suggested going into town to get one in the usual café (or where-ever).
She seemed to like that idea so we banked it and both stayed in bed watching tv or kipping.
At some point I received a text from the new merged doctor’s practice with a reply to my Accurx.NHS inquiry that I would be called by a member of staff about my blood test reports.
Fantastic, this is brilliant. I’ll be able to move on and perhaps get a reason for my right eye’s cloudiness, or a plan to find out what’s causing the blurring.
Job done, nearly.
Thanks Accurx.NHS.
We both got ready for lunch out and jumped in the car weaving between the workers opposite who are making tremendous noise and progress in their respective jobs in adjoining neighbors back gardens, but no joined up thinking to be honest but they are both pretty clean workers and very able.
There was no blue badge car parking to be had today in my favourite 6hr car park so I did my best to find a space where I could fling the drivers door open and get out easily, and with that done we held hands as we pulled ourselves up the car park pathways to the café.
With the choices made and seats found I sat comfortably on my trusty seat mat I use in the car and anywhere else I sit to be honest. Those mats and covers from ASDA are fantastic and make my stay on uncomfortable chairs easy to cope with. We have three of them and even my Darling uses them regularly.
The plated dinners were expertly delivered after the drinks, in the fashion we’re used to and we were very happy with the tastes and generous plates of food. It only remains that we should eat up and fill our bellies while the café crowd swapped seats and cups and saucers as the lunch time trade flowed all around us.
“That was lovely” I said as I stretched my body in a vein attempt to make room to finish off a few remaining chips. But there was no room so we left the plates behind with a bit of food we couldn’t finish and waddled off back home.
We had an hour to kill before I had to go to work so we sat and watched a bit of catchup tv, still awaiting the call back about my bloods and by the time I left for work I knew it would interfere with work, which it did.
Ring ring, “hello this is Dr zxghxstv? How are you, it is Mr U I’m talking to, is it please”.
Yes it’s me I replied and I found a quiet place so I could try to hear and understand what he was telling me.
And it basically went like this.
You are diabetic, you need to reduce your carbs. Your eyes could be because you’re old (62) and also because of your cancer. You can have another HbA1c blood test in four months to check you are reducing your diabetes.
I said in a stern and incredulous reply that 40 HbA1c was not diabetic and the rise of three is not too bad considering I eat what I like due to my shortened life by the stage four cancer. How can you say I’m diabetic. Also this call should be in reference to my reason for this blood test in the first place which is to find out if the bloods can tell you or my optician why my right eye needs a new optical prescription six months apart.
This he replied by saying there are no guarantees anyone can tell why this is happening but your age, diabetes and cancer are likely to be a problem.
I realised I was going around in circles here. I had to disagree about the diabetes diagnosis and gave up trying to explain that his experience and expertise was for the eyes not the carb intake. I left the conversation comfortably numb. Yes, I was angry too. It’s a bloody cheek that my bmi of 25 and the bloods of HbA1c: 40 mmol/mol and Plasma glucose: 4.6 mmol/L are not suggesting I’m already a diabetic and in my view I immediately want a second opinion.
I asked about the optician and who was going to move this eye problem forward; or was this another one of them “you are too old to bother with” attitudes.
I’m beginning to think I’m on my own here at the surgery.
It is a sad fact that the surgery group can’t find any full time doctors and nearly all of the doctors at this group are locum.
That said they should all be more qualified than to scare me with a banishment of cakes and haribos.
That’s not on.
So as I write this I’m fuming inside and wondering how to write up a letter for a second opinion.
A good day spoilt, is what today is.
Perhaps tomorrow’s tattoo will bring smiles back to our faces, especially my Darlings.
Sleep well, take care.
