On Wednesday morning, the nurse was horrified by the state of my legs, and phoned the GP surgery to tell them I needed an urgent home visit.
I didn’t get one – I got a phone call instead.
In three years none of my GPs have ever seen my legs – they refuse to look at them because, to quote one of them “They’re horrible!” – I wonder what they think it’s like to have to live with them? With the blood, the pain, the suppuration and the stink? They have no real idea of how horrendous that is. And they sure as hell can’t comprehend the pain.