Ah, the lovely Dr Bee. I call him that because he resembles a bumble bee. Beyond regular smear tests three years apart I haven’t had much reason to frequent my GP and for those it’s always with the female (and scary) Polish doctor, so I hadn’t seen Dr Bee for ages when I walked into my appointment this afternoon.
“Hi Anna”, he said with his customary warm smile, “it’s been a long time, it’s good to see you”.
I could be wrong, but I think I might stand out in his memory from the messy divorce days, when he sat through several episodes with my ex-husband who wanted me diagnosed with postpartum depression and all sorts of other mental conditions given his inability to accept that I was unhappy because of HIM, not some crazy condition. Dr Bee was wonderful back then and he is just as wonderful now. Perhaps because he got a real insight into the volatile personality of my ex (who is usually good at displaying a charming personality, but who showed his true colours to Dr Bee) back then and how vulnerable I was, he feels some kind of fatherly instinct. Who knows.
Or he’s just one of those genuine, beautiful souls who just take great pride in their profession and actually care deeply about all of us who turn to him in times of medical need. Or not, as the case was when my ex dragged me to his office. Any time I’ve seen him since then, although not often, he’s made a point of asking and making sure I got away and am happy now.
To cut a long-ish story short I’ve been addled with insane abdominal pain that comes and goes and in the past month I’ve ping-ponged between my GP surgery and A&E and scans. And today it was Dr Bee who saw me to go through the results of the last scan. Turns out he only works Tuesdays, another reason why I’ve not seen him for so long. As opposed to other conveyor belt style GPs at the surgery, he took his time to fully hear me out, refer me properly (tick) and suggest another batch of blood tests (tick). He desciphered the scan results for me and gave me a steer on what’s causing my problems along with reassuring me that the various life threatening illnesses I’ve been diagnosing myself with via Google aren’t likely (TICK).
He then went on to ask about Monkey, how I’m doing these days (during the era of severe marital mayhem I weighed roughly 50 kilos – AKA The Abusive Partner and Messy Divorce Diet) and went on to go through everything to ensure I’m fully examined and referred to cover all bases (BIG FAT TICK).
After the last couple of weeks of being thrown back and forth with nobody seeming particularly interested in getting to the bottom of the problem, this was just…. …what the doctor ordered.
Thank God for Dr Bee. As we speak the pain is on the up again, and if it were music it would be the opening notes of ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ by Grieg, ever so ominous and steadily – if slowly – increasing in intensity. Bracing myself for another bout but now a lot more hopeful that the possibilities will be narrowed down and the issue being pinpointed soon so I can deal with it.