Before you read the below post I want to make it clear that I am a huge supporter of the NHS. I love our NHS. I think we are really lucky to have this amazing melting pot of experiences, skills, cultures and dedication that all combines to allow us medical help whenever we need it and free on the point of entry. I really hate it when people say that our NHS should be dissolved. What it needs is the government to allocate funds for a full audit, a clean up of the entire system so nurses are not overworked, doctors can see their patients without rushing and not giving their all, Health Care Assistants are not stretched thinly across wards. Rather than this, the government continues to squeeze it to breaking point so people feel disillusioned. I had all three of my children in NHS hospitals and they were wonderful. Anyhoo…
It’s incredible how a simple phone call can make you feel a million times more optimistic about stuff.
Our doctors surgery is a nightmare. They never have any appointments available and even just trying to book a phone call with a GP is like asking for a miracle. Anyway, yesterday I called up to see if I could speak to Jude’s GP about possible sleep aids for him (or the rest of us so we can’t hear him anymore); he wasn’t available but another GP I hadn’t heard of could call me in the afternoon. I reluctantly agreed, basing my negative assumptions of her doctoring skills entirely on one locum experience several years ago and carried on about my day. At about 4pm she called.
And oh my goodness, I think I have found my new best friend.
She actually CARED. Like, really expressively cared. I explained that for literally months now, Jude hasn’t been sleeping well and that Tuesday night he didn’t go to sleep until nearly midnight. I think she must have heard it in my voice because she said that she was as worried about me (and the family) as she was about Jude. Was I ok? Before I could answer this, she said “because you know, if you say you are ok with this then you’d be in the vast minority.”
I told her I’m not ok with this and that I feel like I’m breaking. She told me that unfortunately she can’t prescribe melatonin that simply and asked who Jude’s Consultant is so she can confer with them. Consultant? Did she mean GP, I asked. No, his Consultant. Errrr we don’t have one of them.
She was pretty stunned and said “so no one has been watching over Jude’s care all these years?” Other than me, I explained, no.
Now, I can take this one of two ways. Firstly, how awful that our surgery didn’t think the allocate Jude a Consultant at the Children’s Centre or secondly, how stupid of me for not arranging this. Guess which emotion I recognised first?
I’m not going to foster any negative feelings anymore, I feel like I’m on a mission to complete Jude’s circle of care before he hits his teens and really (really) needs more support. So, I am taking Jude in to see her on Friday morning before school and she will talk us through a few options. The conspirer in me sees her as a potential ally in supporting my persistent requests to the social care and SEN departments of the council. I want Jude to be offered more detailed support and a weekly boarding school place and I think she can certainly help on the medical side of things. This lovely lady made me realise that I’m not making a big deal out of things and that it’s ok to try and get help in looking after Jude. The line that really got me and made me realise I’ve found a good GP for Jude was her final comment of “it’s all ok.”
Isn’t it funny how fate helps you meet these people. It’s happened to me many times throughout my life, you think you can’t hit any lower and then a guardian angel in the form of a doctor or an amazing friend emerges out of the emotional fog.