I have learnt many new things over the last six weeks at primary care meetings here and there. At my fingertips and on the tip of my tongue are now phrases like "Benefits Realisation Plan", "Risk Stratifying Spotting" and "Special Measures". I have the phrases – I just need to know when to use them.
I particularly like the "Benefits Realisation Plan"; it conjures up images of smoky rooms full of people sorting out surprise parties and presents for people who, unbeknown to them, are doing really well. The transcription of "Risk Stratifying Spotting" may be slightly corrupted – I had wax in my ears that day, so I'm not quite sure if that was truly said. If it was, I was never much of a twitcher, so spotting Risk Stratifiers seems unappealing.
Now, "Special Measures" I can understand. What leaps to mind immediately with this phrase is a group of determined individuals armed with folders/clipboards and white boards with laser pointers at the ready. I fear the "Special Measures" people – they may want me to "produce a model for a federated approach to community care provision."
Christmas is coming. There's been no post for days and we've yet to see the swine flu vaccines. "Next week! Next week!" they cry! Every week, I ready my deltoid muscle, because if I'm advocating the jab then I should show some willing. It's got nothing to do with the continued threat of banishment to the caravan if I get swine flu from my wife.
The children are quite excited that swine flu means that you grow a curly tail – they have the idea they can sell tickets to see daddy with a curly tail and snout in the caravan. It's obviously far more serious than that, and I apologise for my somewhat frivolous approach to a pandemic.
The local Rugby club is the venue for this year's surgery Christmas bash. Last year was very exclusive – posh hotel, posh meal, horrible nightclub nearby with no spouses. This year is all-comers welcome, the more the merrier and no nightclub. I'm not sure what entertainment is on offer – the food at the Rugby club is usually a spectacle rather than spectacular. The disco will undoubtedly be the usual montage of Motown and Eddie Cochrane. Perhaps l should go as Scrooge?
Our seasonal flu campaign is now drawing to its usual protracted end. It seemed successful and we all mucked in for a week of stabbing. I enlisted our medical students; their techniques, tested on the orange we use for practice, were interesting, ranging from the "Bambi technique" ("must I break the skin?") to "the Phil 'the power' Taylor technique" (with a vaccine thrown from the door).
Next year I wil buy a new orange. Scrooge is dead.