When I switched on my radio this week and heard the presenter say “Stay tuned for a chance to receive the phone call everyone wants to get”, I wondered how they would know who everyone’s doctor is – but it transpired that it was just a competition to win £10,000, not even enough for a knee replacement.
These days trying to land an appointment with any doctor feels like taking a Glider into town – you may eventually get there, but be prepared for a rough ride.
The adventure begins with setting an alarm so that we can make the call as soon as the line opens, followed by the high-stakes lottery of dodging the eternal engaged tone, then a frantic fumble to hit the redial button every three seconds.
If you do happen to snare an appointment, the dopamine rush may last for a few minutes while you cry exultant and applaud your own tenacity.
After all, it only took 57% of your phone battery, 113 call attempts and 37 minutes on hold being mentally tortured by an upbeat, tinny jingle on repeat.
The initial victory of getting through soon wears off while you settle into the mental marathon of mobile checking, terrified that you may miss that all important “call back” from the GP which constitutes as your appointment.
God forbid you have an ailment that requires a set of eyes to look upon it, lest the doctor be forced to suffer your presence!
Although, they’ll ask you to send a picture of said rash or bruise to view from a safe distance and decide whether you are worthy of an audience.
If you are of a generation that isn’t tech-savvy, then I pray that you are good with adjectives so that you can accurately describe your ailment down the blower.
While I have nothing but praise for my own GP practice, of all the scope for achievements in life, successfully reaching a doctor and receiving care for an ailment shouldn’t feel like such a win – but it has become a skill in today’s climate, for blessed be the golden one who manages to procure a precious prescription.
If you are so lucky, neighbours will ask for your system, relatives will look upon your fresh pack of penicillin with envy, and you could half-expect a parade down the Ormeau Road in your honour.
I recall an episode of Peppa Pig making the news because health professionals stated that showing “Doctor Dog” making house calls in the middle of the day was causing children to have unrealistic expectations of medical care, so now when I tell my kids that I remember a time when the doctor would, in fact, make house calls, they look at me as though I have just declared that I was a waitress at the Last Supper.
Growing up, I often heard my Ma say she was “ready for the burn” –her shorthand for Purdysburn mental health unit – a phrase that echoed through many a family dealing with Troubles-trauma, which leaves me wondering if, despite the stigma, mental health services were actually more accessible in the past.
Nowadays, campaigns declaring “it’s ok not to be ok” are plastered everywhere, and even our own adverts encourage anyone struggling to “talk to the doctor”, to which I refer to my earlier diatribe about just how blatantly difficult this seemingly simple task has become.
Let’s be honest, I get why the NHS has reached this level of tomfoolery – there’s an ever-growing crowd of us with dodgy knees, a pinch of funding that barely buys a round at the hospital canteen, heroic staff who need a holiday, and the lingering chaos of Covid-19.
But come on, things have to get better. How about we try boosting investment in actual doctors instead of paperwork, and make booking an appointment less like auditioning for The Hunger Games?
If you’re wondering who’s responsible for this medical circus, look no further than those folks in government who juggle the purse strings and set the rules. It’s time to swap policy gridlock for a dose of common sense.
If my words seem laced with cynicism, please know it’s born from genuine concern – and, admittedly, no small amount of personal exasperation.
I sincerely hope that, in reading this, others might feel less alone in their struggles with both mental health and the bureaucracy that surrounds seeking help.
Here’s to hoping for a future where reaching out for support is met with open doors rather than endless obstacles.