Well I had my annual appointment today with the consultant. He was running nearly two hours late, but I couldn’t complain; if I need that sort of time one day, I’ll want him to spend it on me, so I can’t complain when someone else needs his time and he gives it to them.
Having said that, I did get chatting to another patient over the tea and biccies they bring when they’re running outrageously late, and we ended up talking about Mr Consultant. ‘Is it just me,’ says I, ‘or does he always seem really bored?’
‘Oh my, yes,’ my new friend replied, ‘and he always talks at the notes or the dictaphone, not at you.’
We carried on in this vein for a while, and then talked of other things. It made the time go so much faster having someone to chat to, and luckily for me she was next in line after me, so I could chat to her right up until I was called in.
So I went in expecting a bored and fed up Mr Consultant to glance and me and start chatting to his dictaphone, but no such thing. Just like the experience I had with the nurse six months ago, it was as though he’d had a personality transplant. He was charm itself. We talked through my issues, and instead of saying ‘Well, the bloods are fine, go away and stop bothering me’* he listened carefully as I told him about the various flares in the last six months, examined me, and agreed that if I had had flares and needed steroids, clearly my disease was not fully controlled.
The upshot of it is that my methotrexate dose is increasing to 17.5 mg and we’ll see how we go from there.
I was able to tell my buddy on the way out that she needn’t worry, Mr Consultant was in a good mood today; I just hope she found the same!
* Not that he’s ever been that blunt, it just feels that way!