Touch wood! My association with clinics have been limited and rare. I am not the healthiest specimen on the face of earth but probably the laziest and a firm believer of time being the best healer. My better half being non-believer of the idiom, forced me to visit a clinic for a chronic issue that I had been carrying around for over 10 years. The issue was a harmless swelling behind the ankle that kept me company all these years without complaining of my foot odour or any other discomfort that I subject my lower extremities to.
So off I went to the nearest clinic. This was a new one that I was venturing to as I had moved house recently and the old clinic did not move with me to this side of the town. This clinic, looking more like a five star hotel, was recommended by a well meaning friend. I walked into the cool confines of the entrance lobby and looked for the reception. Having located the reception in the bright cavernous lobby, I marched purposefully to the lady manning the counter. To a not so welcoming look I said the greetings, which got reciprocated grudgingly and the eyebrows formed a interrogation sign. Paradoxical words " how can I help you" sounded from below the interrogation sign. The conversation went this way .
Me - I would like to see a GP, please.
She - We don't have GPs , we only have specialists. Which specialist would you like to meet?
Me - I am not sure, that's why I prefer meeting a GP who can then direct me to the right specialist.
She - what exactly is your problem?
Me - I have a swelling behind my ankle
She - Can I see ?
Me - Are you a doctor ?
By then she walked around the counter and said - I am not a doctor but I can decide which specialist you should go to.
I exposed my ankle and she let out some sympathetic noises, which sounded like the mother hen chiding young chicken, and said - let me refer you to Surgery.
As the word surgery cut into me, I stitched it with a response - I would still prefer a doctor to diagnose and refer me to anyone else.
That response of mine questioned her years of experience sitting at the reception and handing out diagnoses and remedies to uninitiated souls like me. She certainly did not take it kindly and pronounced her final judgement.
She - I have seen this before also and the surgeon will have to operate on this and cut it out. The only way to treat this is to surgically remove it.
Me - Thank you .
I rushed out of the clinic and i could hear her trying to reassure that it wasn't as bad as she made it out to be, but I was keen to break Usain Bolt's record. Once in the safer confines of my car and a kilometer from the clinic I wondered with such receptionist around what would the doctors role be?
