A Trip to the Doctor

All is not well in La-La Land.  A fantastic weekend saw a welcome return visit to the homeland, involving drinks, friends, the Liquid Room, dancing, falling over, sleep, no sleep, fun chat, feeling too sick to eat, socks, trains, curry, movies and a plane.   

Somewhere on these travels a weird virusy-type-thing took over, resulting in 3 days off work sick, followed by an attempt to return to work, only to be met with “you look like shit, go home”.  General common sense decided a doctor should be consulted.  Being new to London, search for said ‘doctor’ commenced.  Attempts to ask the general public on a street corner were unsuccessful, resulting in them trying to avoid me 😦   especially this dude:


Resorting to 118 247, the helpful telephone number, I located not one, but THREE doctors in the immediate vicinity.  Choosing one at random I couldn’t understand a word the woman said, but got the gist that they’d see me if I came now.  On arrival at said doctors clinic I was greeted by all three staff; doctor, nurse and receptionist.  The arrival of a new patient was obviously a novelty.

Evidence implied pee sticks are tested by the nurse and discarded into a wastepaper basket under the desk.  Looking about I could see a number where she’d missed her target.  Considering this was 11am either there were many patients that morning, or cleaning is not their strong point.  She then proceeded to spend the next 3/4 hour typing my information into computer followed by saying she needed the number for my old GP.  Having provided this she began to use the phone.  “Erm…could I see the doctor now?” I tentatively asked. 

  The consultation with the doctor included the following:

  • An enquiry into what I do for a living.

Answering this innocent small talk question resulted in him asking if he could please pass my phone number to his brother who is a livestock manager to then ask for advice about cattle welfare!  Oh and he’s now going into goats so could I add a bit about that?

Then could I come do a talk about animal welfare for a group he runs please.  He’ll be in touch with me using my mobile number (faithfully supplied, along with details of my latest blood tests and family medical history).

A prescription later, I arrived at the pharmacy to discover I’d been prescribed the following:


so if you didn’t catch that: Ibuprofen (he prescribed 3 packets – that’s enough to commit suicide!), cough medicine, antibiotics and pain ointment.  Whole prescription cost came to £18.00.

I’m changing doctors!


3 Responses to “A Trip to the Doctor”

  1. Gary Wood Says:

    I heard laughter is the best medicine.

  2. Nic Says:

    or getting your mate to repeat the experience for your own amusement. volunteers?

  3. One kidney down, one to go « La-La Land Says:

    […] of you who have read my previous doctor visit will be able to understand my fear at the realisation that a doctor must be consulted – and […]

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