Just a slightly cryptic clue that my wretched leg continues to be a problem even after seeing four doctors, visiting two hospitals and getting eight prescriptions.  Every single person I discussed it with (Other than those medically qualified) asked what to the ignorant might seem the somewhat obvious question about x-rays/scans, neither of which had ever been suggested during consultations, some of which didn’t even feature an actual examination of the offending limb.

Being of an organised disposition I rang the surgery on Thursday, four days before one of my many prescriptions was due to run out.  I was told to get my local pharmacy to request a repeat.  I rang the chemist, they rang the doctor and I rang the chemist again to find out how things were going.  ‘It will be here on Tuesday’ they said, ‘ what with it being a Bank Holiday’.  My judgement clouded by pain I optimistically rang on Tuesday to discover that no repeat prescription had arrived.  The chemist rang the doctors, I rang the chemist and they announced with an air of victory that it would be there.  On Thursday.

Obviously I should have remembered that we are renowned as a nation of animal lovers.  People, not so much.  When my cat was ill I went to the nearby 24 hour vet.  Sadly animals get ill out of hours and on Bank Holidays, which is clearly yet another way in which they differ from humans.

Following  a stern talking to from my big sister, a woman you wouldn’t want to trifle with, I decided it was time to put on my tiara and remind them who they were dealing with.  Sometimes it is the only way forward.

The next Doctor was another locum and very charming.  And again no question of pestering me with a needless physical examination.  I related the sorry history of the prescription (He didn’t even have the wit to blush with shame) and said that I would like fewer drugs and something more along the lines of a diagnosis.  What exactly is wrong with me?

He smiled ruefully. ‘That’s the million dollar question’ he said.  ‘And I think it’s rather your job to answer it’ I replied, giving him the look I normally reserve for unrepentant mass murderers who I’ve taken a dislike to.

So three more prescriptions and a promise (!) to arrange for an MRI scan.

I think he may change his mind about choosing  for medicine when he finishes his ‘A’ levels and opt for accountancy.  If he’s recovered by then.