Tuesday, 25 January 2011

The NHS - part two

So I had my check-up. Thankfully, it was just a chat and a blood pressure test. The doctor felt very uncomfortable. She kept correcting herself and talking v-e-r-y slowly so that she wouldn't say the wrong thing. Even though she did, on a number of occasions. The wrong thing, I've realised, is awkwardness.
There is no nice way to say that my darling baby has died. So it's easier for everyone involved if we all just adopt some straight talking confidence and get it over and done with. I didn't feel as though she was an intelligent professional, I felt like I was sitting with a five year old who had stolen a bag of sweets. She was all, shifting her weight in her chair, and playing with her hair and keeping her eyes down in shame.
I did well not to cry out of pure frustration.
I told her, of course, about the rather major slip up earlier in the day. She, er, apologised, er, and kept shaking her, er, head and not quiet, er, getting out what she meant.
What a joy.

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