literally another aussie in london

NHS

Recently I blew out my knee.

I’m not sure if that is the correct phrase, but it is the one that people use in American films, and it sounds good.

My knee is rat shit.

It’s been a week and a half since I did it.

This now means I am an expert on the National Health Service, or NHS.

Ofcourse that is bullshit, no one really understands the NHS, but this is what I have learnt.

Everyone saying you need a MRI doesn’t get you one, you need the one doctor at the hospital, that you can only see on your second trip there, to say it before it happens.

Urgent means in 3 weeks time.

They just give you the crutches, for free, no questions asked, no returns, just have the crutches, here you go kiddie.

Getting the crutches means going to the hospital though, your doctor, who can see you can’t walk can’t give them to you, and they don’t seem to be accessible through pharmacies.

If your doctor gives you a prescription, the hospital pharmacy cannot fill it for you.

Drugs are cheap, and they seem to give you enough to last through a global crisis.

Seeing someone at the hospital is easy, seeing a doctor at the hospital is hard. I saw a triage nurse, 2 medical students, a nurse and an X ray specialist on my first visit, not a doctor.

You have to prize information out of people; they won’t give you information willingly.

The system does work, I think.

Although my knee still hurts, and at this stage I am doing my own rehab, as no one has told me what to do, other than wait for my urgent MRI.

April 29, 2009 - Posted by Jrod | living in london | NHS