Friday, 27 June 2008

Excellent start to the weekend.

I am pretty sure Alice has cystitis. The screams and tears when she went to the loo before bed were horrific, and the way she's walking tells its own story.

So, here in Olde Englande we can either boil up some toads and crush with the hair of a 100 year old woman, add a little sugar to taste.....or equally problematic is how you can get medical attention in the UK out of Monday-Friday 9-6 (2 hrs for lunch)

A couple of years ago Alice picked up some sicky bug with a raging high temperature. She was NOT herself in any way, and lay around in and out of sleep, refusing to eat, drink...anything.

Here's the process (and a brief precis of the 'call')

1. Rang GPs surgery to get their answerphone telling you to ring emergency number or ring NHS Direct.

2. Rang NHS Direct, following me telling them her temp and not drinking told to ring emergency number for GP.

3. Ring through to a CALL CENTRE. Nice. Explain your problem to a non-medic and they decide whether you need to speak to a doc now, or if you will have to wait for them to ring back 'within 2 hours'

4. Wait an hour.

5. GP phones

'What's wrong with her?'
'sickness, temp etc etc'
'How high is temp?'
'Have you given her paracetemol?
'no, we thought we'd just see what the boiling point of a 1 year old is'
'Is she stripped off?'
'Oh yes, in fact, we've half hung her out of the window - it's snowing tonight, you know'
'No, of course not, there wasn't much on telly so I thought I would just see how many health professionals I could speak to in an evening' (I DON'T KNOW TOSSER, YOU'RE THE PIGGING DOCTOR)
'Can you get her to me?' (1 yr old, high high temp, not really awake, floppy, barely responsive, outside minus yikes degrees and SNOW)
'yeah, we thought we'd bring her over in the buggy, nice night for a 10 mile trip with an ill 1-yr old'
'So you want me to come out?...(sigh)'
'No, no, heavens no, you stay there, have another whiskey, don't mind us. Got any mates I can call, by my tally I haven't talked to a chiropodist yet tonight'

He did eventually come out, smelling of whiskey I kid you not. And yes, she was ok, and yes, I was no doubt over-panicking BUT I DON'T CARE. My kids, my worry, and I pay my taxes, oh yes do I.

So, tomorrow will be the phone chase until I finally get a GP to agree to see us. I will make sure I wind Florence up a bit before I call so she can add some extra dramatic screaming sound effects to poor little Alice's genuine ones.

Nighty night xxxx