I had a lousy afternoon. My doctor’s surgery didn’t tell me that my (routine) blood test today was supposed to be a fasting test, with the result that I didn’t fast and couldn’t have my blood test. So that’s a wasted NHS appointment and a waste of my time – and energy – going to the hospital. That wasn’t what made me angry. The anger came from the contempt that the GP’s surgery receptionists treated me with when I tried to find out what was going on, if I was really supposed to have a fasting blood test or if it was a mistake, as if I had no right to ask why the doctor wanted someone to stick a needle in me and take my blood. Because I’m just the patient and should shut up and do as I’m told. I actually left because I could see they weren’t going to listen to me, but I was still angry. When I realised I had forgotten to collect my repeat prescription from the surgery, I went back and decided to ask if they could check with the doctor that I was supposed to have a fasting blood test. They said they had checked with him, presumably after I had left. So either they were worried that they were not right to dismiss my questions, in which case they have even less justification for treating me so badly for asking, or they lied to me to shut me up. I couldn’t say anything as I couldn’t prove that they had lied and was too tired to continue.
Seriously, I am coming to hate the NHS, although saying that publicly in this country makes me about as popular as Richard Dawkins on a tour of the Bible Belt, and for much the same reason. I forget who said the religion of Britain is the NHS, but it is, and a useless little tin idol it sometimes is too. Not that anyone will say that on this election campaign; the NHS has long been Labour’s not-so secret weapon.
Because of anger and tiredness, my shopping afterwards took longer than it should have done and I got home at 5.30pm exhausted and unable to do much useful. I didn’t really do anything all day other than my two-hour-plus afternoon of trying to sort out the blood test and some related shopping and my shiur (religious class) in the evening, although I did find the time to speak to my sister and to write a devar Torah (Torah thought) for this week.
I’ve thought up a devar Torah for every week so far for this cycle of Torah readings (five weeks so far), although one was thought up while we were away and didn’t get written down. I thought about sending them to some friends from shul (synagogue), but I’m too wary that people may not like my interpretations rather those of rabbis that are, so to speak, certainly kosher, particularly not when I do things like query whether there have been scribal errors in religious texts like the Midrash, as I did this week. I suppose I can change my mind in the future.
And that’s it for today really. I’m exhausted and don’t have anything else to say. I was too busy being angry and frustrated to be depressed or particularly introspective.