Well well well. I'm currently marveling at the Reading medical system. I had an appointment with the nurse today to register with my new doctor. Although I would have preferred an appointment which put me back on the street in time for work, I took what I was given. 10.15. The nurse was late. So be it.

We went through a series of questions and tests. My blood pressure was very good. Woo. Then we got onto the subject of my dormant diabetes. I say it's dormant because my control tends to be very good and I never experience symptoms of any sort. Ideally I would be referred to a clinic where they would check me out every so often and tell me I'm still great. But no. Apparently we're doing this piecemeal. I get to make an appointment for my eye test, and I have to go and get my blood tests done at the lab at the hospital.

I don't expect the doctor to be able to do my blood tests in house, but I do expect them to be able to draw blood and send it. Apparently not. My last doctor could do that, but these guys can't. Ace!

To add insult to bureaucracy, they had run out of eye test appointments at the surgery, so I have to ring a number to get an eye test wherever they can fit me in. This is just needlessly confusing. I'm fairly bright and capable, and I'm having trouble keeping track of all of this. I'm currently sitting in the pathology department of the hospital waiting to have my blood taken for the test. This day is not going well.

Getting to the hospital was easy enough. They have a car park attached which is not too pricey: 2 pounds minimum for 2 hours. People in the car park drive like the walking dead: maybe the driving dead. It's as though people in hospitals should write themselves off as useless and with nothing to do with their lives but be ill. I just want to have my blood test and go to work, but I'm number 14 in the path lab queue, and they are still processing number 98. I assume it wraps round at 100 or so.

Even getting here along the corridor was a pain in the ass. Somebody was being given a lift on a buggy thing, which goes at walking pace and blocked the corridor. Though the driver made way for oncoming traffic, he kept swerving around and generally making it impossible for me to walk past. I had corridor rage for the first time. Brilliant.

All of this delay and irritation could have been avoided if the clinic, to which I'm apparently going to be referred for my diabetic check ups, did all these tests in house. They may do. This effort may well be redundant. Boy that would be good! Or maybe I would be at work now if the nurse had taken my blood there and then and sent them to the lab, or even sent me to drop them off. Perhaps she can do this, but didn't think I could give a fasting sample. She didn't ask if I'd had breakfast. I hadn't.

Whatever the other possibilities, it seems that a fragmented system is causing me to hang around in hospitals rather than get on with my life. Is this the case for everyone around me too?

They're at 99. This is taking ages. I'm not happy. The 2 hour minimum charge on the car park looks less like profiteering and more like prophecy!