THE NHS...

...let me enlighten you on another English cornerstone of bureaucracy, the NHS. For the less learned, that would be the National Health Service. And as is the wont of such munificent institutions, the NHS is a behemoth. 60 years old and the world's (yes, the worlds!) largest publicly funded health service. Employer of more than 1.5 million people..... and as their website brags, only the Chinese People’s Liberation Army, Wal-Mart and the Indian Railways directly employ more people. Hah!! Not good enough to beat us, wot?!?! :P Who cares about Olympic medals - Indian railways rock! But I digress (such a recurring motif!). Their website also bandies about a rumour that it is also one of the most efficient, most egalitarian and most comprehensive health service in the world. Did I mention of the 1.5 million staff, only 35,000 or thereabouts are actually GP's??

Which is why, I believe it deserves all of it's 3.4 seconds of international fame on this blog. So, why now? Well, I've only just begun the great journey of discovery that is the NHS. While it's been three years since I moved to London... if you're as healthy as a horse, why would you voluntarily go register yourself for anything unless they were giving away free plasma TVs (free toaster was my first impulse, and as much as I love toast, didn't seem to be enough incentive)? You can take the desi out of the desh, but...... ! Let's just say, manhandling an oxygen tank while diving in Malta (yep, that's yet another blog that I've passed by), left me with a sore bicep, and a burning desire to explore what it meant to be part of the system.

Step 1. You have to register yourself with a GP. Ookie. I knew that. Because Somya and I have been talking about getting ourselves registered for the past year - the usual, we MUST get ourselves register, yes, yes, we MUST. How do you find a GP? Like you find anything else... you google it. :) they spew out a list of GP's in your locality of choice, stating whether they're accepting new patients. Did wonder what happens when they don't, but luckily I was spoilt for choice. Picked one that was closed to work and home and called them to ask what next..

Step 2. Show up with proof of address documents. As anything, postcode is the ultimate key to success, and when this bored yet harried receptionist tried to tell me I wasn't the right postcode for the centre, I just squinted à la Dirty Harry and insisted, 'I called and someone here said it was fine' and she surrendered the forms for me to fill. So cowed was she by my assertive personality that when I asked if she'd like to see my proof of address docs, she just waved them away dismissively. Postcode had won the day.

Step 3. I'd have thought the next logical step would be to set up an appointment with a doctor for a hello, here I am and this is my medical history. I was wrong. Ms. BHR asked if I wanted to see a doctor? (no, I'm here for the matinee performance of Swan Lake), and a free slot was found for me 3 days hence.

Step 4. Meet the doctor. Incidentally I have it on good authority (GP Dr. Vinod from Welton), that all NHS appointments with the GP can last only 10 minutes, so I'd optimistically fixed an early dinner. Except, I get to the health centre only to wait for 10 minutes, but hey presto, I get called and get to meet Dr. Veejay (not me, them..!), who types me up in his combuder, and tells me I'll have to go for physiotherapy. Bugger! that reminds me, I need to find my prescription.... don't worry, illumination a few steps down. But yes, I can either choose to (a) use the NHS, which means I will have to go whenever they give me an appointment or (b) go private, in which case I'd better have insurance, but it will allow me flexibility to pick times that suit me... I promise to check with the company insurance provider and report back, and he gives me a prescription for anti-inflammatories coz I'm cute :)

Step 5. Don't fill the prescription, and make calls to BUPA who the company insures us with, and they cheerfully tell me (after I pass the postcode test, naturally) that I am insured for physio as well - all I need is a doctors name to make sure he's BUPA registered.

Step 6. Again, a newbie NHS befuddlement scenario. I report back to the good Dr. Vee that I can go private, and he says Godspeed. Erm, so who do you recommend? I ask...well, that's entirely up to me it seems. I mull this. I go to the GP coz my arm still hurts. He suggests physio, preferably private, but I'm supposed to find my own physio if that's the case. Huh? Yep, the joys of going private - I can use a-n-y-o-n-e I want. Yipee! Except this wasn't my idea was it?! I think Dr. Veeejay senses my confusion, and suggests two names. Google to the rescue and more calls to BUPA to get their authorisation.

Step 7. Yay! Visit the physio, all good and happy and free :). What a great system if you have the patience! But could it last? Or was it just a forlorn dream?? Session 2, and physio chappie suggests I go back to the anti inflammatories for a week, but can't give me a prescription....

Step 8. Damn prescription!! When people ask what I miss most about India, Lakmé wafts past my eyes. Inexpensive, easily accessible waxing, manicure and pedicures!! With chai on the side... Still is what I miss most, but next on that list HAS to be OVER THE COUNTER DRUG DISPENSATION!! Who ever uses a prescription in India? Hell, you place an order over the phone and they'll drop it off. Waaaaah - give me my motherland. So, how does one get another one? Hah! Google blushes and hides, so I call Ms. BHR and she graciously outlines the procedure. On a piece of paper (no! really?), put down your name, the name of the doctor and what the prescription was for....if you drop it off before 11 am, you will get your prescription after 5 pm the same day. If it's after 11 am, then you'll just have to collect it after 5 pm the next day.....by which time, the pharmacy would have shut! You make a feeble attempt at sidestepping the bureaucracy 'is there no way I can get it tomorrow morning if I drop it off around 5 pm?' - but procedures have been cast in stone. You don't get to employ 1.5 million bodies by being flexible....

Step 9. Am now doing a manhunt for that prescription I never got filled. And if all else fails, breathe deeeeeeefly, and go back to Step 8.

P.S. - Someone told me about another wonderful offering of the NHS. The NHS direct - this is for when you're GP's not available, after hours, weekends and suchlike..... so you call, and find yourself talking to a nurse (400,000 of them and we wonder where all the Mallus disappear) who very professionally asks you to describe your symptoms. So a litany describing your near death situation ensues, encouraged by the thought of imminent relief. Voilà, the oracle speaks, her professional advice (and I swear I'm not making this up!), "I would recommend you go to your GP"

Iceland - and this is going to be a work in progress for a while...

Because it's the sort of place that leaves you breathless and speechless. Because words are inadquate to try and explain what you've never experienced before. To describe it, or the way it makes you feel needs the helpless fluttering of hands, deep inhalations of breath as you remember it's majesty, futile head shaking as you try to find the right words, the look in your eyes desperately trying to get across the feeling of being whooped in the solar plexus by it. It's not a pretty country, not by any stretch of the imagination. But it is bold, stark, strong, beautiful and a little frightening. And to think, I almost didn’t go… thank God for Sonia & Dimple and a what the hell moment :)

Funny thing, life...

.... how something as ordinary as an email from a friend can lift you. Make that an email from your best friend. Especially if you haven't really been able to speak to them in a long, long time. So when you actually do, the smile on your face stay long after you've hit the send button. Didn't think I'd actually say this, but it's better than real dark chocolate...!

Yes, I got distracted, lazy, apathetic and gave the blog a skip. Hadn't planned to write this, but hey, here I am, and I'm not even playing freecell on the side :). It is about getting into the habit, but sometimes, it's so much easier to just left yourself go, and I did. Inspiration however, comes in many guises. Some more unpleasant than others, sometimes sudden, sometimes stealthily, sometimes an email from your best friend.