So, I’ve come to the conclusion that Doctors are as useless as employment websites.
I had two appointments at the surgery yesterday evening, one at 5:10 and another a 5:20 — the first to review how I’m getting on with the Depo Provera jabs (which I’ve been on over a year now) in accordance with new protocols, and the second to get my next jab. 5:20 rolls around and the Nurse calls me through to the treatment room. Oops: can’t have my jab because I’ve not had my review yet — she tells me to go back and sit in the waiting room again until I’ve seen the Doctor. Go back to the waiting room and sit down, only to be called in by the Doctor.
I go to the Doctor’s room and he asks me what’s wrong. “Need some sort of review or something because I’m on the contraceptive injection” I tell him. He just looks at me. Then he looks at me some more. Then he fidgits a bit and confesses to not actually knowing what he’s got to do “umm, arr, umm” he might have to test my hormone levels, bla bla. After he fires up Internet Explorer and starts researching on the Internet I feel somewhat unsure about the qualifications of this guy. Anyway, two phone calls later he’s discovered he doesn’t need to do any checks and tells me he’s happy to have my jab if I am. Great — 10 minutes wasted.
I go back to the Nurse to get my jab and end up oozing with blood because she’s rammed this needle in and left it sat there for ten minutes (the other Nurse is much nicer on my poor bottom) and then informs me I’ll have to have a plaster. A plaster: on my arse. VERY nice. As if this wasn’t bad enough she opens the curtain to fetch the plaster thus exposing my naked arse to the world because the doors ajar and there’s a great big window in it.
Ahh, the things I go through to remain child-free!