Weird week. GP surgery sent me a text. “The result of your recent test has been received. Please make an appointment with a doctor”

I rang the surgery survived the interrogation and was given an urgent appointment for the end of the week. Face to face? I enquired deluded that I am. Phone was the reply.

After a flurry of further texts. A call from the gp pharmacist to say I should take dozasasin …but as I already do take it she rang off! Need to speak to a doctor she mumbled. Don’t we all said I.

Anyhow. GP rang. Why am I ringing you? she said.

Dunno. I said. Your team told me to make an appointment – by text.

Ah. She said. You’ve just been in hospital.

No. Really? I did NOT say.

You are anaemic. Iron. Potassium. You have chronic kidney disease. You must be bleeding? . Are you pregnant? Period? Menopausal?? Head toe finger …….nooooooooooooo

FFS I did not say. A hysterectomy in 2009 was the start of this shit show. ( To be honest I know most of that . No least that I’ve been in hospital recently ! and GP test results are accessible via the nhs app. you can read them before the gp rings ! )

You need a blood test. She said. reassured?.

Anyhow just to keep her happy I trolled off the the blood test clinic. Conveniently near my house and our Sicilian café where my friend JES and I had arranged to meet. She came with me to bloods. We go back a long way. We taught at the same school and shared many a laugh then and since! As we entered bloods we started giggling. The butcher -counter-ticket device for the queue set us off. Then we chatted to all and sundry. She learnt that the lady next to her had a chewing gum sounding surname. I chatted to the old man by me about the weather. We remarked about the fact that everyone seemed to be in striped tops. We clapped

every time anyone emerged from the test room. Then…to the delight of all the assembled…well we two anyway….we spotted the sign above the door.

Well that did it.

….

Where’s the bleeding anything…we were all giggling by now and could not stop. The phlebotomists shouted out names, but the bleeding covid masks, our laughs and giggles prevented any realistic possibility of hearing anyone’s name. So who knows whose blood was tested for who knows bleeding what.