The Consultant And The “C” Word…


Now. As regular readers know, I had an appointment at the Ear, Nose & Throat Department at our local hospital to see a consultant and determine whether there is any underlying reason for my persistent hoarse voice and sore throat.

I was already feeling a little… twitched… shall we say about it as when I checked the envelope for the letter with the appointment time I found a leaflet that I had previously missed, explaining how the NHS aims to see all suspected cancer patients within two weeks. I know this is standard procedure – and a good thing too – but still… it played on my mind.

Luckily, Alex was arriving back in town on the same day so he could accompany me. We met up and went to the reception to check in. Then we waited. And waited. And waited some more… Anxious enough already – I had a nasty suspicion that the examination would involve an endoscope up my nose – I could feel a panic attack approaching – a distant thundering, like a herd of bison on their way, as my fingertips began to tingle, my heart began to race and the flight reaction kicked in.

Right! That’s it! I can’t possibly wait any longer!” I declared, and shot to my feet, racing off down the corridor.

Alex caught up with me by the receptionist’s desk and managed to calm me down a little while the lovely receptionist went to find out what was taking so long. It just so happened I was next in line to be called… so with Alex talking to me soothingly and the receptionist guiding they shepherded me to a different waiting area.

I went back to breathing exercises while I waited a further fifteen minutes, the chant in my head going: “You have to find out… you have to find out…” Then finally it was my turn. Unclenching my hands from the seat, swallowing my nausea and wiping the sweat from my brow, closely followed by Alex, I entered the consultation room.

I was met by a duty consultant – not the one I’d been expecting, which threw me a little – a cadavernously thin, sunken eyed and very tall man, with large meaty hands. He looked at me. I looked back. He introduced himself as Dr. G ~ Somethingunprounceable – in an extremely heavy accent which in my already heightened state of panic I could barely understand.

He was a very rude man. He would not let me explain my symptoms before cutting me off – “Yes, yes, I see you are nervous person – I examine you now.”

Then without so much as a by-your-leave he lurched forwards and seized me by the throat. Eyes bulging, I managed to restrain myself from punching him on the nose. He released me and I fell back breathless in the chair, clutching at my neck.

Yes, yes, nervous person – nothing there. Now we look up your nose.”

Oh Christ,” I thought – then: “Not bloody likely – I’m off!”

Aloud I said: “No thank you very much not today, I’ll be leaving RIGHT NOW let me out let me out.” I leaped to my feet and tried to exit the room. A nurse stood firmly in my way. I (very bravely) burst into tears…

What matter with you? Is perfectly normal exam – I have it done myself!” The consultant said.

I just do not want a camera up my nose – surely there’s some other way!” I squeaked desperately.

No, no, I numb nose we do it now. Only danger is breaking off inside you if you struggle.”

With that he leant forwards and snapped his rather large teeth in my face. A small part of my mind was saying: “No, pull ourself together, this is your chance to find out that your vocal chords are normal and there’s nothing sinister going on.”

All the time in the background I was aware of Alex talking soothingly to me, but what brought me to my senses was the other nurse who said:

Here. You can hold my hand.”

Alex said: “You can do this.”

And so it happened… I’ll spare you the gory details… a set of incomprehensible instructions delivered to me by the satanic consultant, all the while I focussed on Alex’s voice, clutching the nurse’s hand and trying not to break it while my other hand jerked upwards wanting to smack the consultant where it would hurt him the most and me the least.

Finally it was over and the camera was withdrawn from my poor violated nostril.

Oh I forgot, we need still picture, I just put it back in.”

Oh no. No. No. That’s enough,” I said, wiping tears, snot and local anaesthetic from my face.

I looked at the consultant. He concluded that my loss of voice was all in my head and due to my nervous disposition and gave me an appointment for Speech Therapy (really?!) although to be fair I did find my voice as I left the room. I thanked the nurses most sincerely for their kindness and called him a c*&t. Oops.

But really, his whole “bedside” manner left a lot to be desired, he was patronising, condescending and thoroughly unpleasant. On the other hand, I firmly believe that nurses are God’s representatives on Earth – bless them each and every one.

By the way, there are no abnormalities with my throat, nothing suspicious at all, thank you to everyone for your love and concern. Just as well, really, as I don’t think I would be welcomed back in the ENT department in a hurry!

(Just a note, friends – I was unlucky, the procedure itself is usually pretty straightforward, so if needed, do NOT put off having the same procedure yourself.)

21 thoughts on “The Consultant And The “C” Word…

  1. Poor you! I know the feeling as I have been through 2 sinus surgeries and 4 ENTs. I fell madly in love with me till I had to release him as he was paralysed by fear of treating me when it got really bad for me. The other 3 were good. Yes, having that optical camera slither through my nasal cavaties and throat is never fun. They found all sorts of things in me. I lived after surgeries. So, take heart as you have gone past the toughest and all is GOOD. REJOICE!! I am very happy for you. I should not laugh at your post but it was hilarious as I visualised the whole procedure. I am very glad Alex was with you. Garfield hugs to you both.☺🤗🤗⚘🌻💕💕

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You’re very brave… unfortunately I am a physical coward and hideously squeamish – quite funny really, when you think my mother was a nurse and my father a vet!

      I am also glad you’re still around to cheer and comfort your readers! Sending virtual tea and biscuits, hugs too 🙂 xxx ((hugs))


  2. OMG! You must have scared the physician and staff but they must realize there are peeps that don’t handle physical problems well. they sure do now! I have had one of these procedures and though unpleasant…I lived.

    Samantha, you got it done and that part is over. You do write a fancy story my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much, Jean, it is reassuring to hear that normally the whole thing is a lot less dramatic…that bl**dy man just needs to practise his bedside manner a little more. Or change jobs… lots of love to you all 🙂 xxx


  3. Eugh what a rude man! Sounds traumatic, I’m so sorry you had such an awful experience. I’ve not had one of those done but I’ve had a tube up my nose to go into my stomach before and it was something I will never have done again. I feel your pain. Your poor nostril. But you did it – phew!! xx

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Although you got your results (which I’m SO happy about, by the way), I wish I’d have been there with you, because I’d have verbally bopped that ‘see you next Tuesday’ on the nose, between the eyes and under the chin. What a horrible way to behave towards a nervous patient. He’d have been left in no delusions as to how his bedside manner(s) needed to be revised.

    Then … I’d have complained about him. He really shouldn’t have treated you like that. (Oh I’m SO cross right now).

    You need to go back to your GP and tell him what happened. If he feels that perhaps that chap didn’t examine you properly (and forgot a necessary photograph of your nasal passages too!), then he might re-book you to see someone else, perhaps another hospital, where you could get a proper exam. But do tell your GP Sam. He needs to know when his patients aren’t treated properly by these horrors.

    I love you for going. I love that Alex went with you (well done that man!), and I love you for putting yourself first and telling that chap (doctor? I don’t think so!) where he could shove his equipment and his examination. Rude ‘barstool’.

    Most of all … love you – for being exactly who you are. Don’t ever change who you are Sam.
    Heaps of love and squidges ~ Cobs. xxx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Had a surprise nap there…I was watching “Who Do You Think You Are” and annoyingly fell asleep…

      But yes…he was horrible. I will DEFINITELY mention him to my GP, but I think he was a locum, since the consultant I was supposed to see was the same one who saw my partner and he was very good. Giggling at “barstool”…Alex couldn’t remove me quickly enough from the department!

      Thank you for your love and support, it means a lot 💕💕 and of course, lots of love to you 😺💕xxx

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I am so glad to hear that everything looked good Samantha. Some Drs. really need to go back to school to learn that patients are people and not just an inconvenient number.
    You were very brave in my opinion. If you have anxiety this would definitely be a very tough thing even with a great doctor!! Good for you for going! I am impressed.


  6. Very glad to hear you are OK. One time I asked a young doctor to leave after he kept insisting the pain in my thumb was arthritis, even though (very) recent x-rays had shown it was not. He had not looked at the x-rays, because at my age, the only possible explanation was arthritis. He didn’t mention the carpal tunnel surgery I was trying to schedule (which was also causing the thumb pain.) I really wish they had to pass some kind of compassion training.


  7. Oh my goodness he sounds like a complete a** so glad you are okay. Doctors can be so patronising. I had a similiar experience with my GP years ago insisting that my illness (continued labrynthitis,) was in my head. Luckily I am over the worst of it but have been left with this continued squelchy sensation in my right ear when I swallow. I’m not making it up! Lol.


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