Calendar girl...

Whatever possessed me to book three separate appointments with three different doctors in one afternoon is anyone's guess.  You see, in my mind everything runs like clockwork, so allowing fifteen minutes or so between appointments was a perfectly acceptable thing to do. The problem was that all three appointments were directed at three very different parts of my body.  On my calendar, I had simply written:

Doctor 3.45

Doctor 4.15

Doctor 4.30

Had I made any notes as to which doctor was checking which bit of me?  Don't be silly.  So sitting in front of the first doctor, she asked me the $64,000 question.  'So how have you been?'

'Well the itching seems to have improved', I said helpfully.  Small pause as she checked her notes and then..

'That's great news, but I was hoping you'd have some feedback about the new inhaler'.  

So it appeared that this one was for the asthma review - I had been given a new inhaler to try out and a decision was to be made whether I was going to carry on with it.  'Ah yes, the inhaler', I said hurriedly.  'It worked a treat, so I'm more than happy to keep using it'.

Clutching a prescription, it was then back into the doctors' reception area where I waited to be called for the next appointment.  I had a bit of a wait, and spent the next twenty minutes laughing silently at other people's names, and watching children climbing over the seats while their parents stared at their phones.  How is that acceptable, anyway?

So onto the next appointment.

Another lovely lady doctor (I never seem to see the same one twice) ushered me over to a chair, and said to me in a very suggestive manner, 'How's it all going then?  Hopefully, you have some good news for me!'

Well that was no help at all, so figuring that I had a 50/50 chance of being right, I said to her, 'Well the itching seems to have calmed down'. 

'That's odd', she said, 'I wasn't expecting the HRT patches to make you itch.  How bad is it?'

So this was the appointment to check on how my HRT patches were settling down, and there was a hurried explanation as to how the itching (or lack of it) had nothing to do with them.  Another success story, and another prescription, and it was back to the reception area.  No time for a sit down this time, as I heard my name shouted out by the Receptionist (for the third time it would seem) and I trundled off to see the doctor who specializes in skin problems.

This was all good news too, and as she wrote up a third prescription, I told her about the mix up with her two colleagues, expecting her to laugh with me.

Peering up from the prescription, she asked me whether a visit to the memory clinic might not be a bad idea.

Too late for that I'm afraid...