A trip to the Doctors and Pharmacy

Now, who would have thought that something as simple as a trip to see my doctor, and then get my medication would be so fraught with peril and trepidation that I sometimes literally shiver when I think about it!

Getting there is not a problem, normally, but my doctors’ surgery is located right next to a set of bus lanes with double-yellow lines, so it’s the usual case of dodging badly parked trades vans and taxis (yeah, damned taxis AGAIN!!!) and buses, who have very little patients and a serious aversion to using their brakes! Now it’s time for the age-old disabled game of “find-the-blue-badge-parking-space”, which in a lot of cases here, is an uphill battle in itself, as my pharmacy is right next door to the surgery, and normally at least 1 of the 3 disabled spaces is taken up with a van delivering medications, or another pharmacy van picking up medications.

You’d think that they would park in the loading/unloading bays reserved for them, but they aren’t next to either front doors, so it’s a real hassle to have to walk an extra 5 yards to get there, isn’t it?


Reception is, and will always remain a place of high command for the receptionist. He/she can survey their field of battle (the waiting room) from on high, in this case a 3.5 foot reception desk with a 1 foot frosted glass panel bolted to the top, making it near impossible for people of average height to be seen, let alone someone in their own mobile seat (you know… a wheelchair!). I roll up to reception on solid wood flooring, making more squeaking noises than a whole field of wild mice during the mating season, only to find that the receptionist can’t see me due to the frosted panel and calls on the next patient with impatience only witnessed by the above-mentioned bus drivers!

I cough loudly (well a hellish, hacking roar, but let’s not split hairs here), and the receptionist finally realises I’m there, simply by standing up and looking, which kind of surprised me, as they usually have to be prised screaming and kicking from their “throne of power” and asks me what I want, and I ask for my prescription in a meekly defiant tone. She (on this visit it’s a woman, but with that frosted glass, I can never tell) and looks in the box, then hands it over without asking me to “take a seat” (I get that a lot to be honest!, which is kind of funny, mine is kind of like, well…ATTACHED!

Next…the pharmacy.

I struggle with the doors, as they were designed by someone from the 16th century for your average pygmy with no shoulders to get through, nearly ripping the door off it’s hinges (well…I tried REALLY hard this time!) and roll up to the counter of an EMPTY waiting room, only to be told it will be about 20 minutes as they are really busy at the moment. I look about, and see 2 staff engaged in a game of “musical medicines” whereby they change a shelf around when no one is looking hoping to catch someone out so they buy condoms instead of much needed throat pastilles, and 2 other staff members busily engaged in an in depth discussion on what is the best product to use to remove foundation and mascara.

Hmm…maybe they are not taking the whole “we are here for your health needs” thing very seriously and thought it was a dreamed up by the “great pretendo” or some other minister for health and welfare, I’m just not sure!

I hear my name called out by a younger member of staff with a bag in her hand, now I’m thinking rather hopefully that she will offer me much needed respite from the planet AGONY (from which I hail from daily) and starts to tell me that not all of my needed meds are in the bag!

WTF??? I needed them all, that’s why the Doctor prescribed them to me!

Sometimes, I really wish someone would actually take the time look up, rather than stare at their clipboard, hoping that the names will magically disappear like it was written in ink from one of Harry Potters’ own pens!!!

Finally, meds in hand, out to the car to find that a taxi has parked up behind me, waiting for a patient pick-up, so when I ask him nicely to move I get the age old…”I’ll only be a few minutes” excuse one hears SO much from “cash-point cripples” all over the country when they nick disabled parking spaces!

But still…homeward bound and ready for the next great challenge to arrive!


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