Doctors as patients – Back pain

– – The patient version – –

 

A 35y young man, slowly entering my consultation room.

Hunched over with a walking stick, with a look on his face of pure doom.

 

Doc I’ve done my back in, the pains so bad.

Take these painkillers I said, no need to be so sad.

 

A wimp, who probably has a low pain threshold, I thought.

Next time you should seek the help of a physio, I retort.

 

 

– – The doctor’s agonising version – –

 

From when I open my eyes, in the early morning.

The engines of pain fire up, and begin churning.

 

Undignified positions and noises emanate, as I extract myself from the bed.

Three minutes it takes to stand straight. Enough said.

 

I just about stop myself from uttering the ‘F’ word.

This pain I have had for 6 days, it’s absurd.

 

Will cauda equina cross their mind?

I can picture having to drop my trousers and someone standing behind.

 

Go to my local A&E…where I know all the staff?

No way I decide, I don’t feel like giving them a laugh.

 

‘No neurology’, I proclaim within seconds of entering my GP’s room.

Thank goodness he decides against a PR, there was no need for me to apply perfume.

 

Diazepam I demand, and an MRI if he see’s fit.

The tablets I get, but the MRI is not needed, not one little bit.

 

Two milligrams is nothing. Four is a joke.

Eight to ten is what you need, if you want to play your golf stroke.

 

I ration the diazepam, the best I can.

But their running out quick, I’m desperate…should I steal some from my gran?

 

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But thank goodness, no need to self prescribe and break GMC rules.

It’s settling by day 10, and no more searing pain like 1000 electric joules.

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