The best laid plans and all that. This weekend I was going to wander around the countryside taking photos of the arrival of autumn. What I in fact ended up doing was looking after my dad who unfortunately passed a kidney stone.

Very, very, painful and physically very sick too. Due to the sickness he was unable to get any relief from the pain killers he was taking as he couldn’t keep them down long enough for them to have any effect, so in the end I rang the Primary Care Unit, which around here has taken over from your doctor’s surgery at the weekend.

They had three doctors on call for the whole of Kidderminster, Stourport and surrounding areas. They were willing to send a doctor out to see dad but the wait would be around the two to three hour mark. If I took him in to the PCU he could see someone in an hour. So we plumped for that option.

We arrived and booked in, the place was really busy but dad went through straight away. A man sat opposite me then started to moan at the receptionist – the grandmother had some sort of bite on her leg and it had formed a red swollen water type blister. He apparently didn’t take too kindly to having to wait two hours to see someone, especially as my dad had just walked through the door and gone straight in and started making his feelings on the subject known to everyone in general.

Now you know what I’m like when I’m not well – I’m your basic evil bitch to put it bluntly. The mild mannered Sue is still in there somewhere, no doubt hiding hoping for normality to return asap. I didn’t say anything to start with – the receptionist pointed out to him that my dad had rang up for an appointment, where as they had just turned up. She’d booked them in to see the doctor but other people were booked in before them. Obviously that didn't make a difference as far as he was concerned.

They’d been sat here waiting for nearly half an hour now, the doctor should have seen them, why should he (indicating the door my dad had walked through) just walk in and get seen, he should have waited the same as everyone else. She should have slotted grandmother in between appointments.

The receptionist didn’t get chance to answer this time – I got there first:

He'd gone straight in as I had rang up for an appointment an hour ago, he’d done his waiting for the doctor at home in intense pain (the man was now looking embarrassed – it’s one thing mouthing off in general; he obviously wasn’t expecting me to answer him back). Did he walk in to the doctor’s surgery and expect to be seen straight away? No, he knew he’d need an appointment and would have rang up first. So why did he think it was any different now? (by this time his whole family are giving him killer looks). What gave him the right to just jump in front of everyone?

He then apologised to me – it’s wasn’t me he was getting at but the fact that there wasn’t enough doctors on call. Yeah, right - and don't you just hate it when someone you don't know calls you 'love'? I then pointed out that if he genuinely had concerns over the health system in operation he should put pen to paper and write to his MP (bet he doesn't know who his MP is), not sit here being down right rude to the receptionist who was only trying to do her job or rude to the world in general for that matter. Everyone sat there had been given an appointment, a lot of them were in pain (little girl sat crying quietly on her mother lap, obviously with earache), all wanted to be seem as quickly as possible but understood that they were in a queue and were waiting their turn.

His wife then pipes up that I should take no notice of him, he was always talking crap; they were going to wait their turn the same as the rest - the last bit is said as she glares at him. The man by this time is trying to sink into the back of his seat and the receptionist is grinning like mad at me.

My dad came out at that point and we went home. The injection did stop him being sick but didn’t have any effect on the pain. So two hours later I rang back up and got him another appointment. This time Himself took my dad to PCU. The receptionist was still the same one from earlier; she told my dad to take a seat and rang through to the doctor, who called him straight through.

She then went on to tell Himself how nice it was that someone had stuck up for her, as she would have loved to have been able to tell the man a few home truths regarding his manners, but wasn’t allowed to.

Himself is now of the opinion that I probably shouldn't be let out by myself when I'm in one of those moods - according to him it could have turned nasty. Too bloody right it could - I could have thump the chap! Although I don't think that was what he was getting at.