Doctors
Grandad April 21st, 2007
I’m a healthy enough individual for my age.
I have my little problems, but don’t we all?
As I grow older, bits start to drop off and I have to get them fixed on again. A bit like an old car. The rust is beginning to show.
When I was living in the suburbs, we had a doctor who lived just a few doors down. He was very handy, but he was one of the worst doctors I ever met. He knew his stuff all right, but he only had two interests in life – making money and becoming a politician.
I went to him once, as I needed a cert for work. He allocated each patient about five minutes, and for the entire session, he bitched about his overheads and his costs, and how he had to put his prices up yet again. Two days later, I saw him being interviewed on the television news – he was heading off to Cheltenham and was bragging about how he was going to have a great time backing all the horses!
I went to our local doctor yesterday. It was a routine visit. A case of gluing on the latest bits that had fallen off and checking oil levels and brake-fluid.
He is a different kettle of fish. He has only one interest in life – the care of the patient. He has a great sense of humour and we always have a laugh. He is one of those doctors that even if there is nothing wrong with you, you feel better after a visit.
Anyway. I had my visit and afterwards I met Herself for a coffee.
“Did you ask him about your short term memory problem?” says she.
Of course, I didn’t.
I forgot.
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