When’s the best time to get a call from your GP telling you that on the basis of your annual health check it might be an idea to make a few changes in your lifestyle if you would like to see out the next decade? Probably not when you’re en route between a funeral and a wake but in all honesty I wasn’t expecting anything different. But when he went through all the things that were causing various levels of concern, my eyes lit up, not in a good way, when he said let’s talk about your liver. “Do we have to?” I felt like saying, but I thought I’d keep that one to myself.
“Your liver function is normal,” he said, all matter-of-factly. How could that possibly be correct given all the red wine I have been getting through? Actually, I didn’t say that, although I was relieved. “There are a few minor indicators,” he added mysteriously, “But we’ll keep an eye on them. I DON’T THINK THERE’S ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.” How about I KNOW there’s nothing to worry about? Again, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to come across as the hypochondriac I actually am.
More blood tests in a few weeks but the statins start now, so you can probably work out that my cholesterol isn’t the best. “We will see in a few weeks whether you need any more?” Christ on a bicycle. If I am put on any more medication, I’ll start to rattle. Today alone I have more tablets inside me than our local Boots the Chemist has got.
The doc didn’t beat around the bush telling me some things need to change. “There’s a 25% chance you could have a heart attack or a stroke in the next 10 years if we do nothing,” he added. I was shocked until I realised that on that basis there was a 75% chance I wouldn’t and things would get even better if I could stop consuming a hundredweight of cheese for tea every night alongside a couple of bottles of red wine. Obviously, I am exaggerating a little here. These days, I only drink to excess. In fact, I drink to forget, although I can’t remember what it is I am trying to forget. Ha ha ha – what a laugh.
The good news is that the Chronic Illness and Death Nurse (I didn’t catch her full title but it was something like that) will be in touch shortly and she will sort out my future diet and medical requirements. “But don’t worry, Mr Johansen,” said the GP. “I’d still make sure your last will and testament is up to date. Just in case.” He didn’t really, but I am going to get on with my funeral arrangements – JUST IN CASE.
The best bit was at the end when I asked him about my mental health. I’d referred to it in my Ask Your GP message. “When did you last have a full assessment?” That flummoxed me. “Well, what happens is that once in a while when things get too much, I see a GP, they arrange some short term counselling, which is inevitably a waste of time, and tell me I can’t have any more drugs. I don’t remember being assessed in the last couple of decades. But I know there’s nothing you can do for people like me.”
“There’s plenty we can do,” he said, sounding slightly incredulous in a tone that suggested he wasn’t impressed with what had, or hadn’t gone on in the past. “Make a separate appointment through Ask My GP for an assessment and we’ll do one.” “Fucking hell,” I really did say. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve had this stuff since around 1969 and I was under the impression the NHS has had enough of me.”
So, there’s hope. I’ve got a GP who thinks I am worth saving physically and mentally, by the looks of it. That’s not even how I feel, so I may need to review my circumstances. But not before I’ve had a nice glass of red. Cheers.
