Medical matters
Yesterday I saw my private doctor in consultation.
She belongs to a successor practice of a doctor who was as popular as he was competent. He had all the attributes one would wish: an excellent diagnostician, a fine judge of consultant, not too expensive and above all an optimist.
Our 20 minute consultations would follow the form of an initial reassurance that all was in order or, if not, a reference to a consultant and then a 15 minute general chat – usually about his beloved Harlequins.
I was bereft when he retired to become a dealer in military watches – though we still stay in contact – and all the more so as the successor practice was run on more commercial lines e.g. upon making an appointment you have to pay for it.
I do not adhere to the current veneration of the NHS even though my late father was a founding father of the first NHS centre in the late 1940s and spent all of his professional life as an esteemed NHS doctor – so much so that, upon retirement, he was requested by patients and NHS executive ordered him to retire for the day and return to practice the next!
My beef with the NHS is that the doctor tends to be in too much of a rush, spend the consultation with his/her face in the computer and – as for the reception staff – the joke is:
“What is the difference between a NHS receptionist and a terrorist?”
“Answer: it’s easier to negotiate with a terrorist.“
Grania, best friend of my p/a Polly, and a year away from full medical qualification, came out with her to Nice in what proved to be an errand of mercy.
She was concerned by a skin condition she diagnosed as vasculitis and helped to compose an email to my dermatologist.
The dermatologist effectively washed her hands of it and – when she finally deigned to reply through the interface of her secretary – recommended it should be checked out, but not by her, as she had no appointment availability.
It had cleared up but having paid for an appointment with the new doctor I thought I should see her anyway.
This proved a sensible course.
I have that chesty cough that is doing the rounds which is the inevitable consequence of the English winter.
Her chest examination revealed nothing serious and she continued with a thorough examination. It transpired that she worked in paediatrics in the very health centre that my Dad founded.
I knew she could not answer one question, namely my decision to convert a pension into an annuity is contingent on how long I have got, but I did think that recourse to a doctor who can anticipate any problems is certainly going to assist with longevity, together with being medically insured to the hilt.
The good doctor supported the strikers, saying it was a long time coming as working conditions were bad and many were leaving the profession.
It occurred to me that one consequence of delivering free health care to all is that people live longer and the pension age may have to be increased as payments are no longer sustainable.
Most economies recognise this except the French.
