The Quest

Back when I moved home, I was told by my then GP practice that I had moved out of their catchment area, and would have to find a new practice. Apparently, the NHS have this system of catchment areas in order to ensure that doctors can (theoretically, of course) go out for a home call if necessary. And, having moved to an appartment that was a whole 2.1 miles from the practice, I am now too far away.

(Someone really should do something about this. I think we need some sort of device that is capable of moving itself along all those fancy roads we have. I even have a wonderful idea for the name: let's call it auto, which means 'self', and mobile, which means 'move'.)

Anyway, given that 2.1 miles is clearly too far for a person to travel, I set out on the task of finding a new GP. And so, my first port of call was the NHS (Scotland) website, which provided guidance on how to do this: look up the practices in your area, pick one, phone them and ask if they're willing to take you on as a patient, and you're done.

So, I looked up the practices in my area, of which there are about ten. Of these, six are closer than the one I was with (and I presume, therefore, that the others should simply be discounted from consideration).

Picking one was a slightly harder challenge. On what basis should I make the selection? After all, I've never used any of them, and so have no basis for comparison. Perhaps I should use the length of the name? Or perhaps the number of vowels in the surnames of the doctors (it is well established that a low usage of vowels improves patient health - except in Argentina, for some reason). Or perhaps I should just make some metric up out of thin air, for comedic purposes?

In the end, I phoned the nearest practice. I'm sure it's no basis on which to pick a doctor, but there was no Dr Zyrryk in the area, so what could I do? Anyway, I phoned them, explained that I'd just moved in, and asked...

Before I finished the question I was interrupted. "No, we're not taking on any patients. You have to go through allocations. Click"

I never did find a practice that was taking on patients. Even when I promised them that I would never, ever get sick they were unmoved. Allocations it was.

So, I dug out the letter I wrote to them three years ago, back when I tried and failed to find a GP in Falkirk last time. I edited the letter to explain the situation (and also comment that, actually, I didn't feel any great need to move, what with having a working prototype of my new automobile, and anyway I could walk the distance in 40 minutes, and daresay could go even faster if I used a horse-draw carriage (or 'car' for short)). But there was just one small problem: no address!

So, I went back to the NHS (Scotland) website (all the while bemoaning the fact that while I was told several times I had to go through Allocations, no-one bothered to think that I might need an address). Still, how hard could it be to find an address? Surely, in the "How to Find a GP" section, there must be a "and if all else fails, write to this address"?

Well, you might think that, but you would be mistaken. The address was nowhere to be found. But, fortunately, help was to be had. There was always the "Email Us" option. Hurrah!

I filled in their form with gusto, rather enjoying the fact that I'd be wasting the time of an over-stretched and over-stressed member of NHS staff on a trivial enquiry that could be resolved by a slight adjustment to their website. It was with great glee that I considered all those people suffering from Swine Flu who would have to go untreated while someone looked up an address that should be readily and easily available on the website. Truly, it was a good time.

When I clicked "Submit", the system showed up a page confirming my request had been sent. It also said a confirmation email would be sent to me. Good, good.

What I didn't notice was that the webpage also gave a unique "enquiry code" for my request, which I would need to access the answer when it arrived. What I didn't realise was that this code would not be included in the confirmation email. What I did not realise was the true depths of stupidity that went into designing this system.

Two days later, I received an email saying that a response to my query was available, and providing a link to said response. I was at something of a loss as to why, rather than just telling me the address, they instead sent me an email saying that they had told me the address somewhere else.

Still, I followed the link. And was presented with a page asking for my unique "enquiry code", and also the "response code" from the email telling me where my answer was to be found. So, I entered the response code, and then looked up the "enquiry code", which of course was in the confirmation email I had been sent two days ago. After all, no-one would be stupid enough to design a system where you had to copy down a number that is shown exactly once, and then lost forever more...

At this point, I considered using their system to email them again to ask the same question. I then considered emailing them again to instead tell them I'd lost my "enquiry code", and could they tell me how to retrieve it. I then considered writing a real letter, lambasting them for developing such an idiotic system, giving a detailed description of just why you shouldn't give people the "enquiry code" after they've sent the email, why it should not be shown only once and then lost forever, and why you want to encircle it with big red text reading "for the love of all that's holy, copy down this number!!!"

Unfortunately, I didn't have the address to which I should send such a letter. Shame.

In the end, I settled on doing nothing at all. After all, it's not as if there's much danger of me actually getting sick any time soon. I mean, it's not as if WHO were, at that very time, predicting some sort of pandemic (pan meaning 'all', demic from demos meaning 'people'). I mean, we've since been informed that we should expect as many as 7 billion new cases of Swine Flu per day by the end of July (in the UK alone!), but this was back in the more innocent days when they were predicting that only 95% of us would die of it.

So, yes, not getting ill it was.

Anyway, I forgot about the matter for a while, being rather too wrapped up in the development of my exciting new mode of transport. Development was going well, as I found I was able to borrow a few ideas from the engine design of my car.

Last week, the postman rode through town on his white horse. (Technically, the horse could have been of another colour. I wasn't there to see it. I merely say 'white' to add a little descriptive flourish to the text. Also, as the colour white denotes purity, I am ascribing to the heroic postman a certain noble quality. I mean, it must be a bit rough, riding through Falkirk with all the Nedmobiles around the place.)

While this paragon of, um, letter delivery was making his rounds, he delivered to me a letter from my GP, noting that I still hadn't found a new practice, and that I really should do so. And, wonder of wonders, they included a form to send to Allocations to enable me to do this, complete with an address to which I should send this form!

Weeping the tears of pure joy that this development inspired, I filled in the form, put it in an envolope, added the address and a stamp, and then walked to the nearest post box, ready for the return of the postman. And now, I eagerly await the news that I have been assigned to a new GP, while at the same time satisfied at the conclusion of my most epic quest to date.

The End.