Chez le médecin

I phoned on Tuesday for an appointment.

"Tomorrow at 9:15?", said the doctor, who handles her own diary.

I quickly reserved the Yaris hybrid and all was set for the off.

The Yaris started great - once I remembered that you have to stick your foot on the brake - and off we went together, me and Carys the Yaris. I really love that car! It's smooth, quiet and has good aircon. And the roads in August are pretty clear. It was a pleasure to drive again!

9:15 means you won't go in very late. My doctor books appointments every 15 minutes, but I reckon she takes about 20 minutes with each person, so it's good to go early in the day if you can. I bet she never eats lunch. Still, lunch is for wimps.

We did the general MOT / contrôle technique.

"You're still running?"

"Yes." I didn't feel the need to explain that while in the UK running through unknown streets prowled by unknown monsters had put me off.

She looked at my carbuncle.

"I've seen a lot worse."

"It was a lot worse", describing the vast quantities of cheese that it had produced. "Sorry about the details."

"It's my job."

I resisted the urge to tell her it had been almost the size of the Sainsbury Extension to the National Gallery. Nobody gets that joke, anyway. Prince Charles might, I suppose.

"After all those antibiotics we'll leave it alone for now. Just use an antiseptic spray, one that crosses the skin."

I told her about how the use of Augmentin is strongly discouraged in the UK.

"They're right! They're always ahead of us. General practitioners shouldn't be allowed to prescribe Augmentin. People hand it out to please their patients and we are creating big problems."

"I've had a problem with this arm, but I think it's because of bad posture irritating the nerve."

She nodded and wrote out a prescription for ten sessions of neck massage with a physiotherapist.

"Choose any convenient physio." she said.


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