Wii elbow

My depression continues to lift, I'm glad to say. I find myself relaxing and enjoying music as I drive between visits. I haven't done that for a long time. Today it was a lovely recording of Vaughan Williams songs, designed more for Easter but just as good for the Christmas season. “Let all the world in every corner sing - my God and King!” Which reminds me of a French joke that is too rude to translate.

La terre est ronde et pourtant ça baise dans tous les coins.

I've also got my sense of humour back. I saw a chap with tennis elbow who denied playing tennis but confessed to using his game console a lot. We christened his condition “Wii elbow”. Another good natured young man turned up with pityriasis rosea. I told him about the “Christmas tree” distribution of the rash, and the (Hark the) “herald” patch, both of which he had. Entering into the spirit of things he volunteered to decorate himself with holly and stand in Trafalgar Square.

Just in time for my appraisal, a patient sent me a “thank you” card comparing me favourably to sliced bread, attached to a box of Thornton's chocolates which will go down well at home.

And although it was a long day (ten hours without stopping) I didn't feel particularly tired and was happy to do a visit after evening surgery, rather than resenting it as I would have done only recently. It was on my way home, and the patient is the spouse of a retired long-serving NHS employee. Heaven knows, they deserve some consideration. All I had to do was chat for a few minutes, listen to a chest, write a prescription for some antibiotic and receive heartfelt thanks for visiting so late. What's not to like?

For those of you who have (very kindly) been worried about me, let me say that I have strong self-preservation instincts and am surrounded by supportive family, friends and colleagues (you know who you are - and thank you). I have fortunately never been tempted by drink or drugs, and when in trouble I call loudly for help. For those of you who have been worried about my patients, I would say that I check my decisions frequently with Martha my “oppo”. And I suspect that if all GPs with mild (or worse) depression stopped working, the NHS would have considerable manning problems.