Boss Is A Dirty Word

I may have shown who is boss, and enjoyed making Blogland sit on the naughty step for a while, but I now have the feeling I'm being treated to a bit of my own medicine. You see from choice of vocabulary in that phrase, that medical matters are impinging on my consciousness. I think I have been banished to the naughty step belonging to the NHS. I have obviously been remiss for not making more noises to gain their attention before now. Their radar has now registered my presence, and I'm being bombarded by flak from all directions.

This would be a little more encouraging if the gunners got their act together, and concentrated the salvos so they came from a single direction. Sadly, this does not appear to be the case. Our local surgeries have recently undergone major changes - some for better, some for worse, it seems. My GP, who has known my ins-and-outs (!) for more than 35 years, has moved on to more managerial realms. You might think a letter would have been sent, to inform me whose list I would be transferred to, but no. In fact, I only knew of his departure from a friend of mine who had received such a letter.

This did not bode well, once I blipped on the radar screen, as I'm sure you can imagine, and now I'm dodging bullets while trying to establish a rapport with doctors to whom I'm virtually an unknown entity.

My supposedly 'restful holiday' break, has proved to be a whirlwind of to-ing and fro-ing, at the mercy of medics... apart, that is, from a few great days when NZ relations were in my neck of the woods, together with No1 Son, who played chauffeur for them. Son is much improved, I am happy to report, so pills seem to have had the desired effect in his case, at least! Only wish I could say the same about me. But I live in hopes?!

I'd like to say a BIG thank you to all my Blogpals who have left messages during my AWOL act. I make no promises as to frequency of posts for a while, or to regularity of ward rounds among Blogland's lunatic fringes, but will flit like a will o' the wisp as time and inclination dictate. Normal service will be resumed as soon as I begin to feel normal. This could take centuries as, in truth, I have yet to discover how normal feels... I even wonder whether I would recognise it if it bit me on the behind...