Robbie has forbidden me to write about his back - and you certainly don't want me to write about his front! So you will just have to guess why I absolutely insisted that he had to go to the doctors earlier this week. We are lucky because the doctors at our surgery are excellent, but since Tony Blair messed around with appointment targets a few years ago it has made the whole process of getting an appointment much more complicated. The theory is that it should be possible to book an appointment several days in advance, but every time you try there are no appointments available, so yet again Robbie had to get an 'on the day' urgent appointment. They have a state of the art phone system now, when you ring it tells you where you are in the queue and you have to sit there waiting listening to advice in swine flu and other medical services awaiting your turn to speak to a human being. Robbie started at 29th in the queue so by the time he spoke to the receptionist he had almost lost the will to live. The appointment line opens half an hour before the surgery opens and we live close by so it is usually possible for him to get an early appointment and then I rush him across town to get the train so that he is not too late for work.
He should have gone for a follow up appointment long before Christmas, but he put it off because he had too much work. He makes me cross, this is really silly, if you have a car and don't maintain it properly it will very soon breakdown completely and the same is true of our bodies, if we don't take care of ourselves we can do lasting damage. So why do I have to drag him kicking and screaming to the doctors, and when he gets there why does he have to be so macho and make out that he can cope! I have never known him to be in so much pain before, it is making every aspect of his life more difficult and he really has to stop acting like superman and start dealing with it sensibly.
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