Thumb, Part 2

I had an appointment with my very annoying GP this afternoon. He’s a strange man. He doesn’t seem to like touching people, which is odd for someone who has chosen to be a doctor, where you have to examine icky, ill people all day long.

In his last surgery he used to have the most enormous wooden desk as a barrier between him and his patients and, if he needed to examine you, he would lean across his desk as far as he could, straining to squint at you, but he wouldn’t walk around it to be any closer. Today was the first time I had seen him in his new surgery. No big wooden desk this time, but instead a very long desk with him sat at one end and a chair for the patient to sit on a full four feet away from him at the other end.

I went into the room and sat down on the faraway chair, and told him that the doctor at work wants me to have a blood test to rule out rheumatoid arthritis and an X-ray to rule out anything to do with the bone in my thumb. I held out my hand, expecting him to examine and squeeze it as the nice Occupational Health doctor had done. He just looked at it, sideways.

“I suppose you can have a blood test, although it’s unlikely to be rheumatoid arthritis,” he said, “but you don’t need an X-ray. I’ll write you out a form for a blood test.” And so he did.

Well pardon me, but how can he possibly know what’s wrong with me just from looking at my hand from four feet away? Does he have X-ray vision?! Silly man! Whilst he's probably right about the diagnosis, I hate his dismissive attitude. I will be glad when I’ve moved area and can change to another GP.