I'm a fucking merry ray of sunshine at the moment, aren't I? Just call me Pollyanna. Use a sarcastic tone if you want. Or don't. I'll probably answer anyway.
It's not secret that I'm not a particularly positive person. Don't think I ever have been really. Even in my primary one class photo, I was the grumpy little bugger sitting in the middle of the picture. I've said on here, and also in real life, that my glass isn't just half empty, it's COMPLETELY empty. Because I drank it dry. And the rest of bottle.
(So, a negative person AND an alcoholic. I'm garnering up quite the nice image of myself here, aren't I???)
Anyhoo, so if you've even only been reading my blog for a mere number of weeks, you will know that my life, which was ticking along very nicely (for a fecking change!), went rather tits up when June arrived. One of the worst things that happened was that my health (the health I've taken for granted my whole life) started to go downhill, to the point where I ended up in A&E two weekends ago. THAT was fun. And then they lost my pee.
Yes, I know I said the other week that I thought they might have lost my pee. It's official. They actually DID.
The surgery who I was meant to be phoning for the test results weren't particularly apologetic about the whole thing, even when I told them the symptoms I had been suffering from previously had returned. They just said "well, all we can say is sign up for another GP as soon as possible" and washed their hands of me.
Lovely. I mean, I know they were doing me a favour in the first place because they didn't HAVE to let me leave a sample. It was the out of hours GP who saw me and they aren't meant to do this at the hospital, but because I was leaving for London the following day, they made an exception. The thing is though, by telling me they would DO me this favour, I figured they had a duty of care to me. After all, I had placed my health (and my wee wee) in their hands. But no.
Anyhoo, over the course of that day, I started to feel much better and I went through the weekend without incident. Went to hotel overnight and had spa treatments courtesy of the lovely Mich, along with watching Bridesmaids and eating mexican food. Felt fab for most of it. The pain started returning again on Sunday night, hung around yesterday but was fairly mild, then when I woke up this morning, it had gone.
Not for long though. Throughout this month of on-and-off pain, I've noticed that sitting exacerbates it the most. And although I got through the morning without too much hassle, by lunchtime I was on the phone to my Mummy, asking her what she thought I should do.
We eventually decided that, since I'm not signed up with another Glasgow GP, it would probably be most efficient to contact the GP I AM signed up with, in my hometown, for an appointment. Preferably as soon as possible. It wasn't ideal but I knew that the guys in my work wouldn't mind me going (they WANTED me to go, in fact, more than I did) and it's not THAT far away. And it was a small price to pay to find out what the hell was wrong with me.
So I phoned the docs and asked for the next available appointment, preferably as soon as possible. I was offered next Monday morning.
The minute I hung up the phone I started panicking. Although I've been coping with this pain on and off for nearly a month now, I suddenly felt like Monday was way too long for me to have to wait. So I did something extremely unlike me.
I phoned back and pleaded as to whether or not they could fit me in sooner. Luckily in the meantime they had a cancellation for Thursday afternoon. Still not ideal, but far better than having to wait until Monday and have this hang over me, especially I'm meant to be going away this weekend.
As someone who never really has had call to have to go to the doctor before, I have been given a bit of a reality check by the NHS in general this month. The way you are treated when you go to A & E out of desperation (ie the horrid receptionist who told me I was speaking too fast and still managed to get half of my details wrong), the fact they always ask you if you've spoken to your GP (which, as I have just proved, is actually quite difficult to arrange), trying to get an appointment in general . . . I'm not even all that confident I'll be diagnosed correctly because I'm sure the doctor in out of hours thought there was nothing wrong with me and only gave me the antibiotics for the UTI to get rid of me - either that or a five day dose just wasn't enough.
In the meantime, I am freaking myself out with the possible options. Is it just a UTI after all and I just need a stronger, longer dose? Is it kidney related (which was mine, and others, original suspicion, but was poo-poo'd by the doctor). Is it both? Is it some sort of other infection? Or an ulcer? Or something even more serious?
I really really hope not. On top of everything else going on in my life right now, this is the last thing I need.
I wish I could rewind to the end of May and make everything right. I'm not sure what I could do, or how I would do it . . . but if I could, I would be happy and healthy again. That's all.