The Disorganised NHS

3 weeks ago I was suppose to have a final appointment with the Speach Therapist, but alas she hadn't put it in her new diary, so a wasted trip to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. Then on Monday I got a letter changing my appointment with the Gender Identity Clinic, and also the Dr I was suppose to see. Since last August I have had an appointment not booked, an appointment not sent to me, a double booked appointment meaning I didn't see Dr My, but a Disco Queen Dr I couldn't take seriously. Then this change to the Disco Queen Dr, I was tempted to email and complain, and demand that I see Dr My, but after speaking to my GP Dr M today I decided to go with the flow. Dr M said if I was unhappy with Disco Queen she would write to Dr My with concerns as I have not seen Dr My now for over a year. Personally I have been considering asking to be referred to Glasgow, as it seems a much bigger unit, and that would hopefully mean better organisation and care for patients.

It really has amazed me at the different levels of care in the NHS, my GP Practise, is absolutely brilliant, the local Minor Service Hospital brilliant, but the minute you go to ERI it falls down. Do I really want my medical needs looked after a place I have no trust or respect for? But I can't afford to go private, and the private specialist is Dr My, who seems just to be a money making machine, ripping of Transgender folk. Oh, I'm sounding very political, and I don't mean to be, it's just observations.

On a more positive note BP was looking good, 114/86, wayha, it's normal, Dr M was very pleased. Going back to the NHS, and I don't know if she was being serious, she said "This better be good today as 1st April is when the stats are collected for the year". Maybe she gets a bonus if she heals folk in a year? We also did a full range of blood tests, results in a week or so. I haven't to go back to see her for 6 weeks, ain't I good and got my shopping list of pills to get at Boots.

Today when I was out it seemed everyone you wish to avoid was about, a whole year of school kids walking along the street when I was getting my car. Police nosing about in my street when I got back, and a neighbour cleaning the stairs in the tennament I live. But there wasn't any funny looks that I noticed, just head held high. Starting to feel that at last my body is matching how I feel and I suppose this comes across. Anyways back to the electrolyis tomorrow, joy oh joy, can't wait, £45 for extreme pain, I could think of better ways of spending £45 a week.