UK 11. NHS

I had my first experience of the NHS, (or No Help whatSoever), recently. I went to the NHS drop-in place and asked to see someone with medical experience. They were a bit put out that I wasn't registered with any doctors ("Who is your doctor?" "I don't know." "Well, where does he work?" "Australia." Sigh, roll eyes) but I was ushered in to see someone anyway. This bloke examined my condition, concluded it was an allergic reaction, wrote the name of an anti-histamine for me and said "If it doesn't clear up in a couple of days, go and see a doctor."

Hang on! Who the hell was this? Don't tell me I'd just fallen for the old trick of taking advice from someone because he was wearing a white coat.

When I explained I didn't have a doctor of my own, this bloke very politely gave me a list of doctors in the area and said if I didn't have any luck, to come back after hours as a GP would be on duty.

Fine.

So the next day I rang some surgeries, keen to get a more considered opinion than that of my nurse. The anti-histamines made me drowsy to the point of feeling stoned all day at work and my condition was worsening. But do you think any doctors (or at least their receptionists) wanted to see me? Did they f*ck! "If you're not registered you have to come and fill out a form and then we've got 48 hours to decide if we'll see you." Bitch.

So it was back to the NHS drop-in place.

"I believe you have a doctor here tonight."
"No."
"But the nurse yesterday said there was."
"Oh, there is one on duty, but only see emergency cases. You need to ring and make an appointment."
Because I'm meant to plan to get myself into an emergency situation, I suppose.
"We'll, I don't know the number, and I'm here now. Perhaps I can make an appointment with you." I'd be speaking to you anyway, you bureaucratic cow.
"No, you have to ring." Huh? "You can see a nurse and then they'll decide if you need to see a doctor. There's a half-hour wait. Or you could go to the A&E at the hospital." Then she smiled in the way that says "Get f*cked and die." Bitch.

So the hospital it was. And what joy. Friendly staff who smiled and joked, a really cute doctor, some mean-arsed anti-histamines and a course of steroids. And free, too. (Well, with the level of tax I'm paying, I should hope so!) A week later my allergic reaction has cleared up with only minor scarring which will hopefully disappear altogether. The only downside is that I think I've developed an allergy to alcohol.