Good Doc, Bad Doc

Bad Doc - a large gentleman with thick rimmed glasses, rubber soled shoes and a stubbly beard that made him look like his face went all the way down to his chest. He regarded the four of us as we piled into his room, then he regarded his watch (five minutes till close of surgery) and asked us what the problem was.

I lay The Kid on the bed while Bad Doc donned a pair of latex gloves and lollopped over. Using his two index fingers to part his knees he looked at the poor unfortunate toddler. Then he turned, snapped the latex gloves into the bin and started writing a prescription.

"Nappy rash." He said. "Apply this cream twice a day."

I didn't argue. I just walked out of the doctor's office and went to get a second opinion. I drove to Solihull Hospital and asked to see one of the doctors at the Badger Centre. They told me I had to phone to make an appointment, despite the fact that it was 7pm, the waiting room was empty, the doctors were free and I was stood inside the building.

I didn't have the time or inclination to argue - procedures are procedures after all. I stepped outside and phoned the number the receptionist had given me.

"Hello, Badger Centres. Doctor's name please."

"Oh, hello, my son's ill, he's eighteen months old and got a swelling.."

"Doctor's name please."

"Oh, okay.." I gave our doctor's name, which didn't come up on the system. Then I gave the address, then the phone number, but nothing came up on the operator's computer.

"Your surgery isn't covered by us. You'll have to go somewhere else - Heartlands probably."

"Yeah, thanks for being helpful" I hissed "but I'm outside The Badger centre now, I have an ill child and.."

"There's nothing we can do, it's all about costs. Because we're not one of your doctor's out of hours providers they won't pay us.."

By this point, The Kid had dozed off again and was actually much better than before. Had he have been any worse we'd have gone to A&E.

We decided, rather than journey to Heartlands and spend hours there, we'd go home and see how he got on, then take him back to the surgery the following morning.

The next day I walked in, with what was actually turning out to be a greatly recovered Kid. I said nothing of the treatment the previous day. I didn't moan or complain or demand that she looked at him properly. I merely said that I'd been in yesterday but was still a bit concerned.

Good Doc asked me questions in a softly spoken voice, then asked me to lie him on the table. With no fussing about gloves she felt the swelling in his groin, listened to his heart and actually looked properly at him. She also examined the rest of his body.

While Good Doc washed her hands she said she'd noticed The Kid's snotty nose - which coupled with the fact his glands were up pointed to him having a viral infection, but that he seemed to be getting over it now. "Keep up with the Calpol and give him lots of fluids." Was the advice.

There. Two very different experiences of the Health Service. Okay, so the actual outcome of what both doctors said was more or less the same - but actually taking the time to look and listen is what you expect from a doctor, isn't it? I felt reassured knowing that the second doctor had actually examined The Kid, rather than making it obvious that she thought we were wasting precious time.

Having your young child barely glanced at by a doctor with the bedside manner of a trout is appalling. He should have been professional enough to do a proper examination, no matter what time of day it was.

Oh - and another thing. I've since found out that there is a walk-in healthcare centre, which anyone can go to from 8am -8pm, actually on the grounds of Solihull Hospital! I can't help feeling that it would have been nice if someone had pointed me in that direction before sending me away.

It's a good job it wasn't anything serious.