Like my father, I don't have much faith in the medical profession and tend to avoid them at all costs. However, after having had another agonising episode on Tuesday, another pretty much sleepless night because of the pain, and feeling really under the weather - yet again - on Wednesday, I felt it was perhaps time to consult the quack.
Despite having lived in Essex for seven years, I've never signed on with a GP here and officially I was still registered with a Health Centre in Bristol. After much persuading by P I finally phoned the nearest GP's practice (handily placed just around the corner) to ask if I could sign on with them and see a doctor asap as I was feeling really rather unwell. I swear they breed GPs' receptionisits to be particularly unpleasant and unhelpful - I've had some nasty run-ins with them in the past - and this one was cut from the exact same mould. She snootily informed me that I would have to go round, collect a form, complete it, bring it back, allow 48 hours for the doctor to decide if I was good enough for him to accept, make an appointment to see the practice nurse, and then, after all that, an appointment to see the doctor. I was not impressed when I asked how long all this was likely to take and was told a week!! A flippin' week, I'm feeling totally cr*p right here, right now!!
So, long story short, they were open until 8.00 pm that evening so P went and collected the form for me, I filled it in immediately and he took it back round. I phoned at 11.30 yesterday morning to find out if I was an acceptable candidate for the GP to take on, was told I was indeed acceptable, asked for the next available appointment to see the nurse - which was in an hour's time - hastily accepted that. Saw the nurse, who was lovely and who told me my blood pressure was perfect (something that always seems to amaze medical folks as they see this lumbering great fat woman arrive and must be expecting my blood pressure to be off the chart - and it never is. Thank goodness some part of me isn't cracking up!!) Anyhoo, I have an appointment with the quack at 9.40 am today.
I think my Mum (who used to be a nurse and is ace at making diagnoses, even over the phone) was quite correct when she said it was my gall bladder that was the problem. P looked things up on t'internet for me and it seems the gall bladder processes the fat we eat. That makes perfect sense, as although I don't eat fatty meats, deep-fried foods or a lot of junk food, I do (or should I say did) eat humungous quantities of butter, cheese and cream. I think we need to look no further for the problem. Needless to say, my intake of dairy products has become non-existent these last couple of days - and me and my gall bladder are feeling much better for it. I'm still interested to hear what the quack has to say but am pretty sure my Mum's diagnosis was spot on. Who knows, with my new fat-reduced diet I may even manage to lose some weight!!