As The Old Man waited for the surgery to ring in the results of his blood test the other day - so that they could also tell him his tablet dosage - time ticked on. He had come over all faint earlier and sat with his head between his knees. Doubtless pondering something.
He decides to take the usual tablet anyway. After all - last time they were 24 hrs late giving him the result.
When the phone does ring. About 7 o'clock that evening. The doctor tells him that his clotting time is very slow - so he mustn't take a tablet.
But he already had.
"Then come in to the surgery tomorrow and we will give you some vitamin K. And we will run some more blood tests."
The Old Man looks worried after the stupid late phone call. He thinks maybe he should dial 999.
The clotting time is like it was when he became very ill.
We stare at each other.
He rings the Hospital and asks for the Ward where he was treated. They listen to him, remember treating him, ask the registrar's advice - and tell him not to worry, what to watch out for, and to get a blood test at the doctor's the next day.
He feels relieved.
I am apoplectic.
Why can't this surgery take on board that he needs more frequent blood tests at the moment?
One a week is not good enough. With no examination of any other kind. No blood pressure checks. No listening to the heart. Then they ring up with his tablet dosage when they can get round to it.
Nursey's face turns red.
Nursey's language turns blue.
Nursey wants to chew someone up into little bits and spit 'em out with accuracy.
Nursey goes to bed early.