Life is still horribly hectic, not least because this was my Sussex Saturday and I had to fit in taking the children to swimming lessons beforehand. However, it was a very enjoyable and productive day. The leader of our group today provided us with the prompt 'This has bothered me' to use as a warm up exercise. Before I sink in front of the television to watch the X Factor (a bit of a contrast to studying for an MA, I know), I thought I'd share with you what I'd written, especially as I haven't been blogging as regularly of late. It's not ground-breaking fiction or anything but just to let you know that I'm still alive:
Going to the doctor's bothers me. A lot. It bothers me because first of all, I can only phone up for an appointment on the day at 8am so that element of uncertainty is always there with the apprehension attached to this impending event usually starting the evening before.
Having argued my way through getting an appointment; 'Yes, it's sort of an ongoing problem but honestly, I don't mind who I see as a) they rarely remember me which is strange considering the frequency of my visits and b), I like to spread my misery evenly'. Okay, I don't actually say that but it's implicit in my acquiescent tone, surely? Anyway, having been forced to see a particular doctor, I arrive at her door, knock inaudibly, almost apologetically and prepare to reveal the reason for my visit. Should I blurt it all out therefore risking making her think I have made a self-diagnosis or do I provide her with little tidbits of symptoms and if so, does the in order in which I present them have any impact? She might judge me to be anything ranging from hypochondriac to know-it-all.
I don't think it's any accident that patients are described as 'presenting' with symptoms. Going to the doctor is always a performance for which no amount of rehearsal can be adequate. All that bothers me. A lot.