This afternoon I had a meds delivery. I put it away and was just about to bin the paper bag it came in, when I felt something inside – a letter from my GP.
Glossing over what a stupid bloody thing it was to do – who the hell looks for letters in paper bags that are supposed to be empty? – I got the Hydrocortisone
I need, 500 tablets at a time. Trouble is it was followed by a rant about drug abuse that made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t have the faintest idea how ill I actually am. I’ve been with that practise 28 years – 8 years longer than him, and he hasn’t a fucking clue about me.
But, by Christ, he will have before the week’s out.
His predecessor, after an initial disagreement, conceded that I actually did know more about my respiratory problems than he did, publicly apologised in the middle of a crowded waiting room for doubting me, and ever after ensured that I had all the drugs I needed, none of the current 28 days supply bullshit – bulk antibiotics (3g sachets of Amoxycillin, about 100 of them), bulk Ventolin nebules, oxygen, everything I possibly could have needed – and this prick is bitching about the weakest steroid tablet available!** Screw that.
**20mg Hydrocortisone = 5mg Prednisolone.
Trust me, if I was going to abuse drugs it wouldn’t be steroids! And I’d buy my own – he’d never know. FFS, my nuts are the size of grapes (testicular atrophy), after a year on hydrocortisone** – does he think I’m taking it for fun? Fuckwit!
**Causes Cushing’s Syndrome, which causes TA.