Tag: health

Bobs Bowel 2


Previous Posts On This Subject

The NHS Poo Sticks game, Colonoscopy, and Bobs Bowel.

I have become obsessed with bowel movements, or rather the lack of them.

After my CTC I restarted taking a laxative, Molaxole, but this was proving to be non productive. As well as the laxative I have also resumed eating normal foods, not the low residue diet, which is remeniscent of baby food.

The lack of bowel movements over the last few days, and the constant feeling that I just ate a full Christmas roast is troubling. The indications are that my tumour is severely restricting the flow in my digestive system.

And that is definitely not good news.

I have been consulting Dr Google, which is not always a good thing. But, in this case the concensus seems to be that, if my tubes are truly blocked, then continuing with the laxative can be counter productive.

Regardless of biopsy results I think it is imperative that the tumour is removed and tout de suite.

As I have been typing this post, and after several fruitless trips to the bathroom, I have finally had success. The fullness that I have been feeling is easing so I think I will carry on with the laxative for the time being. Based on my recent past experience, my bowel seems slow to react. So I have taken another dose of Molaxole and will drink plenty of fluids.

Tomorrow, I will contact the Colorectal Unit for some advice but regardless, I am seeing a consultant on Tuesday with whom there will be a full and frank discussion.

So, I am off now, to make a mug of Bovril.

Stay tuned….

Bobs Bowel


A few days ago, I posted about the NHS Poo Sticks game. There then followed a visit to the hospital for a Colonoscopy which led to my cancer diagnosis.

Apparently my tumour is positioned up at the top right corner in the diagram, where the transverse colon joins the descending colon.

Of course, that is not the end of the saga. We are only just getting started.

Shortly after the colonoscopy, at the meeting with the doctor along with the bad news I was given an appointment date for a meeting with the consultant. That is scheduled for 28th January.

After being discharged I headed home to find that the hospital had already been on the phone. I returned their call and was informed that they had an appoinment for me to attend the hospital again. This time for a CT colonography (CTC). Lucky me. I was scheduled in for Tuesday 21st at 08:30.

That was the good news. The bad news was that I had to go back on the low residue diet. OK, it was only for two days this time, starting on Sunday. On the Monday before the CTC, I was to start taking a liquid laxative. Two doses, one at 08:00 and the other at 18:00. No food after that time, just clear fluids until after the CTC.

The liquid laxative, Gastrografin, also contains a dye (contrast medium) that contains iodine and it helps to clearly show the colon on the scan.

Once again my imagination ran riot but reality was a lot simpler. I was expecting to spend the day on the loo, but after a brief eruption in the morning, I suffered nothing until the following morning. Even after the second dose.

Tuesday morning arrived soon enough and I took myself of to the hospital. No sooner had I arrived in the reception area than I was called through. Given a hospital gown to change into and told to take a seat in a waiting area.

I was then called through to have a cannula fitted. This was needed for the dye that they would inject during the scan. After a brief wait I was shown into the scanner room. I have had CT scans before so my anxiety levels were really low. And so it was up onto the scanning table where the unpleasantness started.

Firstly I was asked to lay on my side with my knees up towards my chin. Once in position a tube was inserted into my back passage. This was for the gas that they were going to use to inflate my colon.

As the gas flowed, so my discomfort increased. Initially there was the sensation of my abdomen bloating. This was soon accompanied by stomach cramps which grew in intensity. I was asked to lay on my back and I was threaded through the eye of the donut.

The discomfort was increasing.

They then injected the dye and we played thread the donut again. After a couple of passes I was asked to turn on my side.

Still the discomfort was building. So much so that I was muttering to myself. Something along the lines of “enough already”, “get me off this thing”, “please make it stop”. You get the picture.

After a couple more passes through the donut they came in to put me out of my misery. The gas pipe was extracted and I was led out of the scanning room, across the corridor and shown to a toilet.

It was there that the process of decompression began. It was also there that I got changed into my street clothes. I then went and sat in a waiting area but it wasn’t long before I headed back to the decompression chamber, and then back to the waiting area.

After a short wait I was invited into a small room where my cannula was removed, and then I was discharged.

Over the last few years I have undergone numerous procedures. But this was by far the worst. I have had CT scans before but the added gas takes them to a whole new level. Definitely an experience that I am not keen to repeat.

I am not Jumping Jack Flash and it definitely was not a Gas, Gas, Gas.

Now, I am eating a relatively normal diet but to ensure that my bowel doesn’t become completely blocked I have been prescribed a different laxative, Molaxole. This I have to drink twice a day. It doesn’t taste nasty but it isn’t pleasant. I have to add some orange squash to make it more palatable.

Yuukkk!

So, now I have to wait until Tuesday and the appointment with the consultant.

I’ll be in touch…..

Colonoscopy Day


After a week of a Low Residue Diet, a day of fasting, and a day supplemented by laxatives, the dreaded day had arrived. (See my previous Poo Sticks post)

My appointment at the hospital was scheduled for 10:00. By 10:45, I was sitting in a small office with a nurse. I gave my medical history. Then the nurse showed me to a room where I could change into my hospital gear.

It was there that I was provided with the standard hospital gown, open at the back. I was also introduced to my “dignity pants”. These are made out of some kind of paper, very loose and with a trapdoor at the rear, for easy access.

Over all this I put on my dressing gown and slippers. Obviously I was the epitome of sartorial elegance. And so, suitably attired, I was collected and led down several long corridors. Up several floors to the theatre suite.

Why are the reception/changing areas always so far away from the treatment rooms ?

Anyway, on arrival, I was fitted with a cannular and had my obs recorded.

After a short wait I was loaded onto a trolley in preparation for entering the theatre. There was a further short delay as they cleaned the room, after the previous patient had been evicted.

Showtime !

I was wheeled into a small room packed with people and equipment. Well, three nurses, me, and eventually the doctor. Very snug.

I was asked to roll on my side and a muscle relaxant, sedative and pain suppressant were administered. Being on my side allowed me to watch the whole procedure. I viewed it on the same screen that the doctor was using.

As the camera traveled along my colon, I was thinking this is like Indiana Jones riding a mining cart along a tunnel. Laid out before me were the pink walls of my colon. I was impressed with how well I had cleaned up, thanks to the Picolax. As we trundled along in my cart, me riding shotgun with the doctor, we rounded a bend only to be confronted by …… what was that ? A rock fall, a cave in …. what ?

I spoke out loud, “Oh that doesn’t look good!”. Nobody responded to me, which was perhaps quite telling.

At this point the doctor started taking photos, biopsies and leaving markers (tattoos). And then the mining cart started the return journey and the procedure was over.

There was very little discomfort in fact my imagination blew everything out of proportion. I found being able to see what the doctor was seeing very interesting. I have since heard from friends and family that have experienced a colonoscopy. They all have no knowledge / memory of the procedure as they were all knocked out. I was told that I would be sedated and my records show that I had fentanyl. But, I didn’t experience any softening of mental focus. I am guessing that I was only given a minimal dosage.

I was wheeled out to the recovery room where I was given a cup of coffee and some biscuits. That was the best coffee ever ! Being my first proper drink since around midnight, twelve hours before. Just before I went to bed.

After a repeated series of obs, I was allowed to dress. The nurses and I then headed down to the discharge waiting room. But after more that half an hour nobody came to see me. So, I went off to find someone. A very helpful young lady in scrubs dispatched a nurse to find out where my doctor had gotten to.

It transpires that he was up to his elbows in another patient. I was transferred to another waiting area, with comfy seats. Being the only one in there, I should have realised that this was the bad news room. The doctor arrived, with back up.

The doctor was supported by one of the Bowel Cancer Screening nurses and a nurse from the Colorectal unit.

The doctor then proceeded to tell me what they had found and the next steps.

Firstly, he is pretty sure I have Colon Cancer. Confirmation will come from the biopsies they too during the procedure. Apparently they took eight samples. I was watching but didn’t count.

The “rock fall” was in fact the cancer / tumour / growth and it prevented the doctor from completing the procedure. The camera could not get past the growth so not all of the colon was examined.

The doctor seemed pretty positive. Given the position of the growth, it should be operable. I might get away with keyhole surgery. And, most importantly to me, I might not have to have a bag. However he went to great pains to stress that none of that is guaranteed.

To determine what is going on further upstream, I am scheduled for a CT Scan. I already have an appointment to see a consultant the following Tuesday.

By then he will have the biopsy and scan results and should be better placed to formulate a battle plan.

So, onward and upwards. Stay tuned …..

Poo Sticks – Updated


No, not the children’s game immortalised in the Winnie The Pooh stories.

I am referring to the game played by adults of a certain age. The NHS initiates this game. As part of their Bowel Screening Programme they send a package through the post requesting a sample of your poo. You then return it to them and they analyse it.

I’ve played this game with them for several years. Presumably, I was winning because I never heard back from them. No news is good news, right!

That continued until late last year when I was invited to a telephone consultation.

They had discovered some traces of “non visible blood.” The net of that hour long conversation was their decision to offer me a colonoscopy. I say offer because it was left open for me to decline the procedure.

What sort of cretin would I have to be to decline ?

You are 73 years old. Your body is wearing out. When the professionals are concerned enough to contact you, it’s only polite to accept.

And so an appointment was made for a colonoscopy and a package duly arrived in the post. Said package contained several pages of information about the procedure. It also included a blow by blow script for the preceding seven days and three sachets of Picolax.

It seems, understandably, that before a colonoscopy the medics like you to clear your tubes. So, for seven days I had to follow a “low residue/low fibre diet”. That is to say I had to cut out all foods containing fibres which are hard to digest. This helps reduce the amount of undigested food passing into my large bowel.

Adhering to this diet presents extra challenges when preparing meals. Those bad boy fibres are really sneaky, popping up when you least expect them. Also many of them are contained in favourite five a day fruits and vegetables.

For example you can eat potatoes but not the skins. You can eat pretty much any root vegetable, like carrot, swede, and turnip. Just make sure they are peeled and well cooked. They should be soft enough to mash. No peas, beans, citrus fruit or berries etc. and no seeds or grains. Even onions are a no-no. The list is endless.

Over the last few days I have become a nervous food prepper/eater. I was preparing some bell peppers for dinner only to find that they are not allowed. Similarly, on Sunday I was holding a glass of red wine when I decided to consult Dr. Google. Nope, red wine is not allowed, in fact turns out I should be avoiding alcohol in general.

Yes, you can make tasty meals acceptable for a low residue diet. However, they lack texture. They are also missing key ingredients to take the flavour to the max.

And so, here I am, having completed the low residue diet. Looking forward to my colonoscopy tomorrow. To be honest I am actually looking forward to eating real food tomorrow night. Just one more hurdle to cross, well two actually.

Hurdle number one is that today, 24 hours before my procedure, I am not allowed to eat anything. I can only consume clear liquids. These include water, squash, coke, lemonade, black tea/coffee, clear soup, marmite/bovril/oxo mixed into weak drinks with hot water. By this time tomorrow I will so hungry you may find me gnawing on a table leg

Hurdle number two, you may remember that earlier I mentioned Picolax. Picolax is a laxative and I have to consume three doses. The first was at 08:30 this morning. The next dose is scheduled for 12:30 and the last to be taken at 18:30.

Having read the instructions the only thing at the forefront of my mind is “Make sure you are close to a toilet”

Oh well, I suppose it’s all for the best.

Stay tuned.

Today, January 15th, was colonoscopy day.

Now I’ve Seen Everything


For years, the tobacco industry spent millions advertising their products. Slowly, but surely, the world has woken up to the negative effects of smoking.

For almost as long as there have been cigarettes, there have been industries devoted to countering their addictive nature.

In more recent times, people have turned to vapes as the “healthy” alternative to cigarettes.

At the forefront of those trying to ween folks off the demon tobacco in the UK is Nicorette.

Earlier today, I visited my local pharmacy. Imagine my surprise when I spotted a large poster by Nicorette offering help to stop vaping ?

So vaping was seen as the safe / healthy alternative to smoking tobacco based cigarettes. 

Already, there have been articles in the press suggesting that vaping is not actually all that healthy, and with deaths being directly attributed to vape usage.

Now, the Nicorette poster is suggesting that vaping is also addictive, habit forming.

What’s next, a cure for Nicorette addiction ?

A Shot In The Arm


This morning we journeyed down into Portsmouth so my wife could have the first of her Covid vaccinations.

I won’t say that we breathed a big sigh of relief but we have probably relaxed a little.

My wife has been closeted away since last June, when we got back to the UK. Since then she has become really concerned about the covid statistics and the implications. Not just for her but for all of us.

She hasn’t ventured outside of our home more than, perhaps, half a dozen times. Most of those excursions have been of a medical nature.

Having the jab does change your perspective a little.

Of course we know that the vaccine doesn’t cure Covid, or prevent you from becoming infected. And, of course, it doesn’t mean you can go out freely. We are, after all, still in lockdown.

What it does show, is that we, as a country, are heading in the right direction, albeit slowly.

Rather these baby steps, than trying to run full tilt, lifting all the restrictions, only to fall flat on our faces. I personally think that the restrictions should not be lifted until at least 75% of the population have been vaccinated.

I’m rather hoping that, by the time the restrictions are lifted, my wife won’t have become a total hermit.

If nothing else, we know that she will be going out again in April, which is when the second jab is scheduled.

More Selfish Idiots


Unbelievable !!!

http://news.sky.com/story/hundreds-caught-at-illegal-rave-in-east-london-as-police-hand-out-fines-worth-16315600-12197138

Despite the pandemic dominating the television news programs, throughout the four countries that make up the United Kingdom.

Despite every newspaper carrying the painful story of the deaths, caused by the pandemic, on their front pages.

Despite pleas from Boris Johnson and his team of ministers, medical and scientific experts.

These absolute morons and many others like them around the UK, continue to defy the rules and regulations put in place to try and control the pandemic.

Plainly, the threat of fines doesn’t deter them from putting their pleasure ahead of the nations health.

Boris gets a lot of flak regarding the governments actions over the last, nearly, 12 months. Charges of acting too slowly, too late, not enforcing the tiers or lockdown strictly enough.

But it doesn’t matter what the government does while these fucktards are out there.

Here’s a thought. Perhaps the police should have put padlocks on the outside of the rave site. The organisers had already padlocked the doors from the inside. This was an opportunity to quarantine all the attendees. They could have been locked inside for 14 days. Making this a combined quarantine and jail sentence. Then they could be let out, one at a time, each being given a temperature test before being allowed to go home.

Frustration


Today my wife received a text from our local GP Surgery, inviting her to make an appointment to have the Covid-19 vaccine.

Within 10 minutes, of receiving the text, we had contacted the surgery only to be told that they were not making anymore vaccination appointments.

Apparently there are vaccine supply issues !!!

This is not an auspicious start to the roll out of the vaccine.

Given the accelerated spread of Covid-19 these are scary times. So to be offered the vaccine, then to have it snatched away, is very frustrating.

My Prostate and Me – Part 3


Template Biopsy !

Monday was one of the longest days of my life. I was scheduled for a “Template Biopsy” which for the un-initiated is described thus …..

The template biopsy is carried out using an ultrasound probe which is passed into your back passage and samples of the prostate gland are obtained through the area of the skin between your scrotum and back passage called the perineum. The procedure is similar to a trans rectal biopsy which you will usually have had.

Let me tell you, from the recipients perspective, it is nothing like the TRUS (Trans rectal biopsy).

To start with my TRUS was carried out fully conscious by a specialist nurse, the lovely Vanessa. The main difference though is that I was in and out of the hospital within an hour or so. But that was 18 months ago or more.

Mondays procedure was to be carried out under general anesthetic, for which I am truly grateful. But lets scroll back the clock a little.

Early Monday morning, Very early

I was awake, some time in the wee small hours. Either I am worrying about the procedure, or this is the residuals of jet-lag acquired on our return from Oz just over a week ago. Perhaps a combination of both.  I checked the clock at 04:00 and thereafter approximately on the hour until I got up just after 07:00. I was not allowed to have anything to eat but was allowed clear liquids to drink and had a black tea around 08:00. The taxi was due to pick me up at 11:30 so I was pottering around in the house killing time. It’s amazing how often I found myself by the bread bin thinking “I’ll just have some toast” or over by the cupboard staring at a packet of peanuts. My last eats had been around 21:00 the previous evening. Going without food for that length of time is not natural for me.

Eventually the taxi turned up, although not at my house but three doors away. Luckily I saw him out there. It could have been worse, the dispatcher at the taxi office misheard my address as Sistine and, had I not corrected him, the taxi would probably have been well on his way to Rome and the Vatican. Still, having ascertained that he was there for me I boarded and we set off. Twice I had to correct his directions back to the main road before I was sure we were going to the hospital.  Mentally I was crossing my fingers, hoping that the surgeon had a better sense of direction than my erstwhile pilot.

Tedium Begins

And so, at 11:50, I checked in at the QA Day Surgery Admissions Reception. And thus began the long wait.  It’s a bit like being on a long haul flight, hours of tedium broken up by announcements from the flight crew. In this case there was no food or drink.

After thirty minutes or so I was taken along to a small room. Here I was visited by the anaesthetist  who interrogated, sorry, checked my details and gave me a brief summary of what to expect. He also arranged for some initial meds.

Shortly thereafter, around 13:00, a nurse arrived with my lunch. A cup of water and four tabs, 2 x paracetamol / 1 antacid and 1 stop you feeling sicky pill.

While I was downing this feast another nurse arrived, interrogated me again and checked my blood pressure and heart rate. My heart rate was right down at about 55 which I queried but is apparently normal for “someone of our age”. She later demonstrated her own readings which were similar, so that was alright then.

I was then left alone to my own devices. I read for a while, played hangman on my phone, read some more, got up and walked around my room, looked out the window , read some more. Well you get the picture. I believe I even had a nap for a few minutes. The window looked down on the back dock but there was nothing happening down there.

Around 16:00 a yet another nurse informed  me that I was Mr. Hodgsons last patient and that I would be seeing him soon. Well I saw his registrar who introduced himself but I have no idea what his name was. His accent, he was English I think, was as indecipherable as his signature on the forms that he got me to sign. He went through the now familiar interrogation, during which Mr. Hodgson popped in, shook my hand and disappeared again.

Oh The Indignity

Twenty minutes later I was invited to go and get changed, by yet another nurse, who led me down to a room full of changing cubicles. This is where all dignity ends.

I am not a small guy at just over six feet tall and way over twenty stones (280lb / 127kg). The nurse threw me a smock and left the room. Needless to say the smock, of the tie at the back variety, did not fit well and I struggled to secure it. Although there was no mirror available I could tell by the cool air that most of my back and all of my bum was pretty much fully exposed. The nurse popped her head in and asked how I was getting on. When I explained that the smock didn’t fit and I was having trouble tying it she assumed a sympathetic air and replied “I shouldn’t worry, the first thing they’ll do is undo it”. I then settled down to fight with the compression stockings which when battle was over were rolled up to just below my knees. Wonderful!!

So there I am with my pale blue smock reaching from just below my chin, down to about two inches above the knee. Struggling to meet my sage green stockings, some two inches below my knees. All with my bum exposed to the rear.

The epitomy of sartorial elegance ? Nope, not a pretty picture.

Not to worry, I thought, I have my dressing gown which should bridge the gap. No such luck. To make sure that I was all bright and shiny for the hospital, my wife had washed and tumble dried it. I hadn’t worn it until now and yes, you’ve guessed, it had shrunk. At least it still closed at the front but the length was a sadly lacking being just a tad longer than the hospital smock. At least my back & bum were covered and therefore a little warmer.

I gathered my stuff and found the nurse, who then gathered up another guy (John) and led us through the hospital. Imagine my feelings as we passed through the first doorway into a public waiting area. I’m dressed like a freak and as we entered the waiting area all heads turned to see who had arrived. I thought later that it must have looked like me and John got dressed in the dark and swapped dressing gowns. His gown reached from neck to ankles and wrapped around him properly while mine was way too small. So, we made it through the waiting area without the gales of laughter I was expecting. Next we traversed the hospital to a stairwell where we descended to the floor below and were left in a new waiting room with one other guy and a TV. Here we waited for what seemed like ages but must have been about thirty to forty minutes. John and the  other guy got the call and then eventually so did I.

Kim, not sure if she was a nurse or a doctor, arrived to lead me to the Operating Theatre suite. Once again I had to traverse the hospital through the public corridors and climb to the upper floors via the stairwell. At this point a cold draught, not Guiness, reminded me about the negative aspects of my attire as I climbed the stairs. The stairs with the open railings to the centre, the railings that gave a not so glorious view of my nether regions to the several people descending these same flights of stairs. One glance up by any of them and they would be scarred for life.

Nearly There

On arrival I am sat in another waiting area, just for few minutes, but my apprehension levels are rising. This is not how I imagined the process would work. All this walking and waiting followed by more walking and waiting. And then an assistant anaesthetist comes and interrogates me one more time and I am on my way. One more surprise was that I had to walk into the theatre and get on the table myself. A green bag is held out for me to dump my shoes and dressing gown into. As I take off the gown a nurse rushes across the room to shut the doors to the outside, to prevent my blushes or those of any outsiders I’m not so sure. Then I am on the table.

And They’re Off

When I entered the theatre there was a group of folks gathered in the corner. Presumably they were in a pre-scrum huddle discussing my procedure. Or maybe they were just discussing Pompeys abysmal record. As I hop on the table I suddenly become the centre of a hive of activity as the anaesthetist and his assistant close in to prepare me. Cannula in the back of the hand, heart monitors etc. then the anaesthetist is telling me that I will feel a coldness in my hand as he injects the first of two concoctions. I felt nothing  and then he informs me that I may feel a little dizzy. I’m staring at the ceiling and the light panels suddenly seem to displace and the next thing I know is a voice over my shoulder is speaking and inviting me to cough.

Job Done

I open my eyes and I am in a different room, apparently job done. This is like taking a shot with an SLR. You look through the lens, focus, shutter release, view goes blank as the mirror lifts, then the view is clear again when the mirror drops. All in the blink of an eye. I’m not feeling dopey or dizzy, just wide awake. Once the nurse is happy that I am OK I am wheeled through to a recovery area.

As I enter the new waiting area I pass John and the other guy from the pre-op waiting area. They are sitting up in their respective beds eating toast which they both wave at me.

After a short time and a cup of water I was invited to get dressed and was led outside to a seating area. The nurse asked if I had eaten anything or had a drink to which I responded “No”. I was offered coffee or tea and I was expecting toast but was in fact offered eggy or corned beef butties. John was already out there so I sat alongside and we compared notes as he had the same procedure. When my coffee and butties arrived he was rather envious since he was only offered toast and like me he loves corned beef. My wife was brought in and she eyed my butties hungrily too. She had been waiting outside since just after five and, as it was now gone seven,  was very hungry.

The purpose of this little tea party is to ensure that you are OK, that you can keep down food and drink and most importantly that you can have a pee. If you can’t keep your food down or you don’t make water they won’t let you go home. Worst still an  inability to pee can mean catheterisation and / or an overnight stay. Luckily I was able after a short while to produce a dribble. Oh but it burned. I’m guessing that I was catheterised during the procedure although nobody said.

Freedom

Anyway, based on my meager performance I was allowed to go and  my daughter came and drove us home. Once home it was more tea and everyone seemed amazed, not the least of which me, at how alert I was. Also that I was in no pain. Well apart from when I had a pee which I was having to do with ever-increasing regularity.

Today, Wednesday Morning

Well the good news is that I have not had any pain. Two nights sleep, although still not sleeping all the way through so blaming the jet lag.

It is now nearly forty-one hours since the procedure.  Any residual pain blocking by the anaesthetic must have worn off by now. The burning sensation has all but disappeared and I have a slight soreness in the perineum, like when you have a bruise, which only makes itself known when I sit on something hard.

Now I have to wait for approximately four weeks to hear the results. That brings us to Christmas week I think, so it is likely that my appointment will be after the holidays. We shall see.

Hands Off Our GPs – NHS: A serious threat


I received an email from 38degrees and have pasted the entire message below.

Having paid into the NHS via taxes for over forty years. I have had little or no need to call on the NHS throughout my early life. So, as you can imagine, I am disgusted to find, just when I am reaching an age where I may need to the services of a GP a little more frequently, the government has an eye to limit my access and make me pay, AGAIN !!.

It is hard enough to get to see a doctor at the best of times. The last thing we need is a limit on the number of visits you are allowed.

Take a read and see if you don’t feel the same way. If you do, add your name to the petition.

This could be very serious. The Conservatives are floating plans to cap the number of times we are allowed to visit our GP. [1] If we run out of visits – because we’ve got a sickly child or long-term health condition, for example – we could be forced to pay to go elsewhere.

At the moment it’s just a proposal. [2] But if the Conservatives don’t see a big public backlash, it could soon be a grim reality. So let’s raise an outcry as quickly as possible and push them to drop the idea immediately.

Please sign the urgent petition now: tell health minister Jeremy Hunt to rule out limiting our access to NHS GPs:
https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

Jeremy Hunt will be watching the public’s reaction carefully. He is an ambitious politician with an eye on his own popularity. If he sees a huge petition growing fast, he’ll realise this is damaging his ratings. So if enough of us sign, we could play a key role in getting this idea dropped.

Being able to visit the family doctor when we need it is a bedrock of a decent health system. GPs are often our first port of call when we’re ill. [3] Limiting access to GPs could mean a dangerous illness is left undetected until it’s too late – unless of course you’ve got private medical insurance…

But this isn’t just about GPs. This is about a principle at the heart of our battle to protect the NHS. Since the NHS was created, everyone in Britain has been able to rely on visiting a doctor as often as we need to. Limiting access would undermine the NHS at its very foundations. So let’s send the Conservatives a strong message: drop this terrible idea.

https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

Thanks for being involved,

David, Rebecca, Travis, Blanche and the 38 Degrees Team

PS: Here’s what the chair of the Royal College of GPs said about these proposals: “This was obviously written by someone who has never been unwell, or has never met people who work in the health service.” Let’s not let the idea get any further – please sign the petition now: https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

NOTES
[1] Daily Mail: Fury as Tories look to limit the number of times you can see your GP each year:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2331068/Fury-Tories-look-limit-number-times-GP-year.html
Independent: Cap on number of GP visits being considered by Tories:
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/cap-on-number-of-gp-visits-being-considered-by-tories-8632396.html
[2] The proposal is contained in a “Conservative Policy Forum” paper on NHS policy, you can see the whole thing here:
http://www.conservativepolicyforum.com/policy/local-health
[3] See for example this campaign on the importance of going to see your GP early if you could have symptoms of bowel cancer:
http://www.macmillan.org.uk/Cancerinformation/Cancertypes/Colonandrectum/Symptomsdiagnosis/Symptoms.aspx