Report To Sick Bay

I went back to visit ‘Dr Crusher’ again yesterday. Alas there were no automatic sliding doors, nor any sign of a tricorder. Despite this disappointment, I pressed on.

Dr Crusher said “So, I’m guessing, since you’re here, that your jaw is still a problem.”

Which was true. But I somehow got the impression that she knew I’d be back. Anyway, I went on to explain that while the underlying pain wasn’t quite so intense as it first was, the dislocating was still happening – at least once every day, and it is affecting everything I do, espceially eating and yawning. Whether I take the ibuprofen or not doesn’t seem to make the slightest difference.

She seemed to be taking all this in, but why do I always feel like I have to justify myself when it comes to medical treatment? I’m really not someone who likes going to the Dr, and I’d much rather it was all better now – but its not, and I want it sorted.

I was expecting some kind of naff examination again – but no, she turned to the notepad on her desk and wrote my name down. Then she said “I’m going to refer you to the Maxilo-Facial Consultant.”

Hurrah.

“I’ve got Bupa.” I volunteered.

Her expression brightened. “Oh that’s good!” she said “Phone them up tonight, and by the time you get to your appointment, the letter should be at the hospital”.

I wonder if she was thinking: I’ll refer you, but it will take all year before they manage to do anything.

And then: Oh, you’ve got Private Health Care! Now there’s more than a cat in hell’s chance you’ll get this fixed! Well done! I’ll get onto it right away!

So there we are. I’ve just got to book my appointment with the hospital now.  

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