Wednesday, 29 April 2015

Grievous Plums

I was recently diagnosed as having a vitamin D deficiency - a very minor problem in the grand scheme of things, albeit one that explained why, for the last ten years or so, I have:

  1. struggled to do things which involved hard, physical work,
  2. struggled to do things which involved light, physical work,
  3. struggled to do things which involved little to no work whatsoever,
  4. struggled to do things,
  5. struggled to sit around not doing things, and, finally, generally just
  6. struggled.
Picture of me struggling ecause holding a paperback hurt my arms. Because HOLDING A PAPERBACK HURT MY BASTARDING ARMS!

I was aware of vitamin D deficiency as a thing, although I assumed that it was not a thing of which I was afflicted due to the many blood tests which I have had which would surely have alerted the NHS to such a problem.

But, as it turns out - despite the fact that I have been turning up at general practitioners offices for the last decade or so complaining of symptoms which sound suspiciously like vitamin D deficiency, not one of them has so far ticked the little box which would have the boys and girls down at the lab assess my richly red ichor's vit-D levels. And I'm not really sure why that is.

The problem with turning up at the GP and listing 'tiredness' as one of your symptoms is that they look at you with a look so smarmy that you could use it to spread battery acid on white noise.

The other problem with GPs is that they're the worst people in the universe. Essentially, they are testament to the sad fact that a highly intelligent person can be devoid of:

  1. Imagination,
  2. Curiosity, and
  3. Ambition
I don't know about you, but if I had spent the best part of a decade learning the intricacies of the human body, I wouldn't then want to use that knowledge as a means to sit in a drab room and not solve people's medical mysteries.

GPs are like intellectual carbon capture - they absorb a fuck load of vital information and then just sink to the bottom of the data ocean - protecting said information from falling into the wrong hands - or the right hands - or any other part of the body that might need healing.

But, on the other hand, they're probably not all that bad. 

Plus, I think I tend to feel worst at the beginning of Spring, i.e. at the end of the time when the sun isn't bright enough to help you produce vitamin D, but by the time I've actually got in to see my GP it's mid-summer so if they did test my vitamin D it would probably looked normal. 

Waiting times. Really long fucking waiting times.

  1. Spending the last decade going to GPs when it would literally have been quicker to just train as a doctor myself,
  2. repeatedly removing my trousers upon entering the doctor's office despite not being asked to, and on one occasion being specifically asked not to,
  3. not dressing as some sort of labrador in order to gain access to the GP's less dead-eyed cousin - the veterinarian.


While this has all been a massive waste of time and energy - energy which I didn't have in the first place - the good news is that you can now rate your GP on the NHS website!
This is mine, and it has noticably improved its score over the past year from a shitbaggly 2 stars to a measely 3, and I'm pretty sure that this is because they have responded to the wall-to-wall criticism that was their review section previously.

Yes, so if you want a better, more human GP, then just google 'NHS + name of your GP' and complain like fuck.

Like fuck.

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