Nicki vs the NHS, round 2

You want health drama? Stand back, ER.

I was binding some contracts today when one of my bosses came in and we got to chatting. I casually asked him where he went to the dentist--I figured he'd understand my predicament, also being an American--because I need to get my teeth cleaned. He said, "well, just go to your GP and ask them to recommend a dentist." So I casually mentioned that I haven't registered with a GP yet. I know, I KNOW, but the GP here is only open for new patients on Tuesday and Thursday, and it is an all afternoon trial to get to see anyone. And I don't need a doctor, I just want to protect Mom and Dad's investment in my teeth. Well, when my boss heard that I effectively had no health insurance, he totally flew off the handle. "Nicole! this is the most important thing you could do! What if something were to happen to you?!" Thanks, Dad. "I'm serious! Do you have health insurance back in America or something?" "Er, no." "WHAT--!" Another ten minutes of berating, and he finally said, "Well, I'm not going to nag you about this, I'm not your father..." And then he said he was going to send me emails until I registered. I know that it's not practical to go flying solo without health insurance, but then again, most of the people I know don't have health insurance. It's just not a priority for people my age. My boss has got health insurance, sure, but then again, he's got a 50,000 pounds a year job AND two little girls.

I filled in for the receptionist again today when she had to go to the doctor for a quick checkup so she could get a prescription refilled. When one of the secretaries found out about it, she slammed down her mail and muttered, "Every week, innit? I'm so sick of her..." Thinking about how I'm going to explain having to take off Friday afternoon to get my NI number--an appointment I've been waiting SIX WEEKS for--plus another afternoon off just to register for a GP--and of course at some point I want to go get my damned teeth clean-- All anyone is going to see is me skipping merrily out the door, not the fact that I actually get all my work done on time and always seem to be available to help other people out. Then again, if my foot gets any worse, or if I hurt my back again, I might not be working for a while. Fine. Point taken. Stop harassing me. I'll get it sorted. Promise--this is a priority.