TESTING TIMES AHEAD

And whilst I’m on the subject of seasons, other than all that Yule time malarkey ‘tis also the season for medical testing.  You know, that time of year when the postman delivers more letters from the hospital than Christmas cards.

So many of these, I could paper the lounge walls

My last lot of blood tests revealed I still had a pulse so I’m off for another round of scans and tests courtesy of the NHS.  At the mo, I feel like I’m living at the doctor’s surgery and I could tell by one look at the receptionist this morning (fake chiselled smile on a granite-like cliff of a face) that she was thinking ‘oh no, not you again!’, adding to my growing sense of paranoia that I’m slowly becoming a hypochondriac. 

You'll only feel a little prick 

After all these visits, surely by now I’ve qualified for one of those neat little bronze plaques you see on the back of chairs or benches?

I’ve developed my own surgery etiquette for these visits since waiting rooms harbour more germs than Salisbury so if you’ve got an appointment coming up then here’s the drill:

     Wear gloves.  For those audacious enough also wear a surgical mask.  If it’s good enough for the doctor, it’s good enough for you.  Keep those hands to yourself.  Don’t touch any surfaces unless absolutely necessary and above all, don’t be tempted to reach out for a magazine.  Not only are they usually full of Chavvy trash but they’ve been handled by every other contagious bugger passing through.

Breathe sparingly or better still, wait outside in the fresh air until 5 minutes before it’s your turn.  Most infections are spread via airborne particles hacked out by said contagious buggers (or diesel cars if you believe the media) so the less time you’re exposed to the waiting room atmosphere the better.
    

     Avoid children.  I always pick the chair furthest away from any under 5’s.  Children are a magnet for just about any bug going.  Other than poor reports, the only other thing children regularly bring home from school is everyone else’s germs.

Create your own personal force field.  I do this by frequently fake coughing, panting or furiously scratching whilst waiting which generally results in all the surrounding chairs being given a wide berth by everyone else.

Lastly, let’s not forget the most important thing of all - bring an electronic device with you.  Not only does this help to pass the time as let’s face it, punctuality is not something rigidly observed by the NHS but it means you can sneakily consult Dr Google about your condition whilst waiting.  

I expect that once the results of all my various tests have been collated, I’ll be called back for a chat with the doctor that’ll probably go something like this:  ‘Ah, Mrs C, so nice to see you again.  I’ve checked your results and it pains me to say…’  Or put in more festive terms ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like …..’