'How are you?' the GP asks heartily as I enter the presence. This is his little iatric joke. You provide the knee-jerk rejoinder 'fine thanks' and he says 'well, what are you doing here, then? Arf arf.' I suppose it brightens up an evening looking at diseased bodies, if that's what he actually does. I've noticed that British GPs these days don't do physical examinations. I'd expected that he'd take my blood pressure and check on the heart, given the symptoms I'd described, but he ordered some blood tests to be done next week, gave me a prescription for some happy pills, and I left, feeling that my physical presence had not been strictly necessary. We could have done the whole thing by e-mail.
I read the leaflet in my new box of Mirtazapine. (Mirtaza Pine - sounds like incense.) Side effects include rapid weight gain, lethargy, dizziness, vivid dreams, desire to commit suicide, hives, desire to self-harm, confusion and anxiety - this last the very thing I'm taking them to assuage, and the most common side-effect. AND YOU CAN'T DRINK ALCOHOL!!! So I'm eyeing them, wondering whether to start taking them or not. I cannot afford to be confused, anxious, lethargic or dead, as we are maniacally busy at work, and I've been confused and lethargic enough lately. Maybe I'll leave them untouched until September, when there's time to see what they'll do to me without involving others.