I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon. He listened to my chest (which he declared ‘lovely’ – just the sort of thing a girl likes to hear) and said he thought I had a virus, which is pretty much what I had diagnosed myself with. Perfect accord thus far.
Then he said: if it is a virus, antibiotics are no good, but if it gets worse or becomes infected, then you will probably need antibiotics to clear it. So I’m going to give you a prescription, and you can take the tablets if you judge that you need them.
This is what I LOVE about good GPs. They realise that just because you are ill that doesn’t make you any less of a grown up. They realise that you can be trusted with your own health.
By 6pm I had a temperature, so I cracked open the antibiotics and got started. (As opposed to having to wait until morning to see the doctor again and get a prescription then.) I took another before bed, along with a sleeping tablet, and was out for 11 hours straight. I predict that by the end of today I will feel much better. Which will be good for me, and have saved the NHS a doctor’s appointment at the very least. Win-win, I say. (Unless you’re a bug.)
(Oh, and my Mum came round this morning, and we had a chat about Not Doing Too Much and Being Careful. I have promised to take care of myself better in future.)