Thursday 17th October 1991   Morning surgery 09:40

“My nose is blocked.”
“Your nose is blocked?” My Dad sounded annoyed.
“Yes, doctor.”
“Dr Lewis is away. I am on call. I’m very busy and you have come because of a blocked nose?”
“I am sorry, doctor. I didn’t know that you were on call and I thought you were always very busy.”
“Yes, we are. Did the receptionist tell you that I was only seeing emergencies this morning?”
“No, doctor.”
“Well, she should have. Right . . . how long have you had a blocked nose?”
“Mmm . . . about 10 years, doctor.”
“You have had a blocked nose for about 10 years and you have come to see me today, of all days?”
“Yes, doctor.” Mr Palmer looked guiltily at his feet.
My Dad took a deep breath and stared angrily at Mr Palmer. It was one of those looks that he gives me if I have done something awful.
“Look, doctor,” Mr Palmer continued, “I said I was sorry. I didn’t realise you were on call today and I had no idea it was emergencies only. I will book another appointment.”
“I think you better. I am in no mood for blocked noses, today.”


My nose is blocked.
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