A week where somehow I have successfully negotiated the intricacies of the NHS .

With asthma threatening after the chest infection gifted by my parents, the Barts severe asthma clinic on the phone told me the GP needed to supply steroids and antibiotics. The GP told me that Barts should. Barts has a useless portal for patients called ‘Patients Know Best,’ and the GP portal (NHS app) is, well, of a sort. In the end, common sense won through. Drugs were dispensed, and asthma is now under control.”

The NHS, in all its wisdom, seems to have misplaced its rheumatologists. Perhaps they are hiding in the enchanted forest of Budget Cuts.

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Enter BUPA – the private healthcare suggested by Dipstick. Armed with £50. I asked the surgery to assist.

The GP, not one I have ever seen, but then I have not actually seen a GP since 2019, penned three cryptic lines: “UTI s – alot. Also, urology. Regards, Dr. GP unknown.”

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BUPA scratched its metaphorical chin. “We see you seek rheumatology, yet the GP talks of UTI. So we are no further forward, confusion reigns.”

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My next worry was trying to get my last urine sample results. Another £50 to the private lab, not trusting the bizarrely random testing of our GP. That result is somehow not available, but in conversation, as you do, I explained urine samples to my friend, lets call her Hen, she too has the whole uti nightmare. This then is what she said:

Picture this: you’re at the GP’s office, clutching a sterile container like it’s the Holy Grail. The receptionist eyes you suspiciously.

Ah, the humble urine sample – that golden elixir of health diagnostics. It’s the one thing we willingly hand over to our doctors, hoping they’ll decipher its secrets like ancient alchemists. But let’s face it, the process can be as confusing as a Rubik’s Cube in a dark room. Fear not, dear Hen you can do this.

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Now, collecting urine isn’t rocket science, but it’s close. Unbeknown to we patients our white capped containers have suddenly been abandoned. Our multi packs from Amazon have saved us many a time. Alas now we have to transfer contents to a tiny thin red test tube. Try peeing into that..not!

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Enter Hen, our brave protagonist. Armed with my letter and determination, she faces her GP. “Listen,” she says, “I demand bespoke urine testing. None of that dipstick nonsense!”

The GP blinks. “But the dipstick is our sacred oracle!”

“No more!” Hen declares. “I want sensitivity testing, mixed growth analysis, and appropriate antibiotics.”

And lo, the GP enrolls her into the exclusive “Bespoke Urine Test” (BUT!) club. Hen struts out, knowing she’s changed the world – one pee at a time.

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And so, let us raise our red sterile containers to Hen, the unsung hero of pee testing. As the sun sets over the NHS, remember: we’re all in this together.

Until then, keep laughing, and may your dipsticks always be ignored. 

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