Читать книгу In Stitches - Nick Edwards, Dr. Nick Edwards - Страница 19

I was sitting at the desk when this quite rude 45-year-old man marched up and moaned about how long he had waited and demanded to know if we were fulfilling government targets. (The answer, I thought to myself, was that he had not waited long enough as he should have been put to the back of the queue for being so pompous.) However, as he had a tie on and an aristocratic voice, everyone seemed to be getting a bit worried and I was asked to go and see him next. He had been suffering from pain in the wrist for three weeks. He had been doing a lot of typing recently and was suffering from ‘tenosynovitis’ (inflammation of the tendons). The treatment is a splint and painkillers.

I was a bit fed up that he had come to A&E with a chronic problem, so I asked him if he had looked at the sign outside and which bit of an accident or emergency he had. (OK, I didn’t ask him that; I wanted to, but he had a suit and tie on and a posh voice and I didn’t want a complaint letter. In fact, I just advised him that in future he went to his GP for this type of problem.)

I was a bit shocked when he told me what had happened. He went to his local GP and saw the receptionist, who demanded to know what was the matter with him. He told her and then she advised him to go to A&E as it wasn’t ‘the sort of thing’ GPs do, despite his protests that he didn’t want to go to A&E. (Despite being a doctor, I also get intimidated by GP receptionists demanding to know loudly what is wrong with you so the whole of the waiting room can hear. I once responded, ‘I have got a growth on my dick, genital herpes and want a sex change, how about you?’ and now they seem to let me see my GP without a CIA-type interrogation. This man wasn’t so fortunate. He failed the interrogation and ended up in A&E – without an accident or emergency.) I had no option but to phone the GP. I got through to the receptionist and the conversation went a bit like this.

‘Hi, could I speak to the duty GP please?’

‘I am afraid he is on home visits all day, and then in a meeting so you won’t be able to speak to him till at least next Thursday,’ she responded.

‘Sorry, I forgot to say my name is Dr Edwards. A&E registrar.’

‘Oh … he is next to me. Having a cup of tea. Sorry, I errrr … forgot,’ she responded.

I picked up the phone ready for an argument. I had all my lines prepared. I had real ‘inappropriate attendee’ rage (a bit similar to road rage, but with fewer horns). I thought the best line I had prepared was ‘And what medical school did your receptionist go to?’ I was ready to go. Start off calm and then let the battle commence …

He was brilliant. He had obviously been on a ‘verbal judo/how to calm down irritated twats course’, because he was magnificent.

‘I am very sorry, Dr Edwards – I will look into it and retrain my staff as necessary. If you have any further problems, put them in writing. I would be most happy to meet you and discuss this issue face to face, etc., etc.’ I wanted a bloody argument not an apology. I wanted to be able to moan and rant, but I ended up singing the GP’s diplomatic skills. Maybe the reason he is so good, though, is because he gets so many complaints about his receptionists …