I hate going to see the doctor.
The smell of disinfectant, the slightly rubbery floors, the waxy chairs, the abrasive crispness of disposable paper towels and sheets, the whir of wooden beads on childrens' toys in the waiting room that seems to be the perfect frequency to turn a dull headache into a biting migraine... it is ghastly.
I am probably the most squeamish person anyone has ever encountered... ever. That may sound somewhat absurdly hyperbolic but, honestly, i nearly punched the (sweet, kind, lovely, supportive) nurse who gave me my HPV jab- even writing the word 'jab' has made my spine feel all weird. uaogbsbgjsvgsmgmnvgmgn. < That's what it feels like. And because i am so squeamish, visiting my GP is the WORST experience in the world for me. It is an attack on all my senses that makes my tear ducts fill, my wrists fold in against my neck (apparently my body's (completely rational) response to the smell of TCP is to guard my neck and wrists because TCP poses an impending risk to those body parts? go figure.) and my tongue seem far too big for my mouth.
This is why I avoid going to the doctor at all costs. If i am riddled with some mysterious illness, i am one of those people who likes to hide inside and wait for it to go away. I have never had antibiotics. My mother actually had to drag me to my GP to register us. My tetanus booster jab last year was traumatic. I still get flash backs.
BUT, surprising as it may sound, I love the NHS. It is what makes me happy to live in the UK over anywhere else. There is a certain altruism about it- caring more about people than about their purses. I love that if i wanted to consult a medical professional about the aforementioned mysterious illness, i could and i wouldn't need to double check that my health insurance was in order. I love that my GP is a 10 minute walk from my house and that i know that if i needed/wanted it, it is always there. I love that in the UK if you have a toddler and backache, while you are slumped in a waxy chair in the waiting room cursing under your breath, your child is being entertained by wooden beads strung on a maze of metal frames and is, thankfully, utterly oblivious to and unfazed by your pain. I LOVE that i am protected against HPV, tetanus and a multitude of other illnesses because someone bothered to vaccinate me, even if i did have to grit my teeth and battle through the queasiness and urge to swipe them round the face.
I love that in Britain, you don't have to choose between meals and medicine.
That's why i am so angry that we are letting all those things dribble away. The NHS is disintegrating. The people who make it up are clinging onto it, struggling to keep it afloat and juggling austerity, increased work loads and structural changes with continuing to uphold the fantastic standard of care.
Major A&E departments are being closed down. The system is being privatised and commercialised. And now? now our GPs- the very face of the NHS, the foundation on which our care system is built- are under threat...
98 surgeries could be under threat of closure according to NHS england in february. To many of us that is just another doom and gloom statistic hovering in the news, not really affecting us just giving us fresh fuel for groans and moans and middle-finger flicking. BUT think about it. Take a moment to consider what it would really mean, to you, if your GP closed down. If you had to register with another practice. Aside from the paper work (tell the school, tell your boss, have another form...), it would be hellish. Every time you had an ache or pain that you suspected wasn't just an ache or pain but something rather more serious, you'd have to shuffle through piles of paper looking for addresses and phone numbers to make an appointment with a new, strange face in an environment that you weren't accustomed to.
One of the most important things about our NHS is your GP. It is the first point of contact with the NHS for most patients. And it is the one that you, and I, are most comfortable with because we recognise it and appreciate in all its blue-walled, squeaky-floored glory. Continuity is undervalued. Seeing the same doctor really can make a difference to how positive you feel, how at home you are and how good the care you receive is- it is like someone knowing exactly how you like your tea; you are reassured that this person, this God-send, really knows you and what you need. I'd rather be stabbed with a needle by a familiar face than by a stranger, in a strange office, in a strange area, at a strange time of day because my old familiar surgery has been beaten into the ground by inadequate funding and resources combined with bulging patient numbers.
That is what is happening to the Jubilee Street Practice in East London (read more here). There is a choice in this situation and it is a grim one: compromise patient care by increasing patient numbers so that the care provided would have to be detached, bureaucratic and common (the old one-size-fits-all approach) or look forward to a rotten and undeserved end. In the meantime, excellent care providers sacrifice their incomes to maintain the practice. In the meantime, a career as a GP becomes unviable. In the meantime, patients wait to find out if they'll be seeing the same face for their next annual check up.
I hate going to see the doctor.
But at least I have a doctor to go and see.
I hope it stays that way.
For everyone.
