"The heart is a resilient little muscle." -- Mickey, 'Hannah and Her Sisters'

Life I went to see my GP this morning. I haven't been inside a surgery since 1997 when I registered after moving back home from university. I don't like anything to do with medicine and like religion I've tried very hard to stay away from all of that unless it was strictly necessary. Like Woody Allen and his brain in Hannah and Her Sisters, for many a year I've worried about some spots which have been on my shoulders since the late nineties. Recently, at least in the past fourteen months, they've changed shape and felt a bit itchy and I've assumed the worst. Unlike Woody though, I've not been trying out various faiths though I did sing along a bit during Songs of Praise the other week.

Anyway, my concern reached critical mass. I'd begun to suspect every ache or pain, bit of indigestion or muscle spasm was connected whatever was clearly killing me. If you do think you have something wrong with you, whatever you do don't Google anything, it just makes you feel worse. Here's some advice. Google Images in particular might be good for finding nice pictures of Freema Agyeman, but everything else could give you nightmares. And did (don't click, it's scary). I was even having thoughts that I might not see the Moffat era of Doctor Who. That's how serious it became. I decided I needed to talk to someone about it.

Having come the decision I was fairly nervous all through last night unable to think about much else and this morning I certainly couldn't eat breakfast. I was also, shall we say, regular, which is also something which happens when there's something impending. You have to call the phone line at 8:20 in the morning to try and get an appointment for that day. There's no pre-booking on the NHS. just as Tony Blair discovered on that Question Time Election Special. I presume it's to deincentivise the time wasters, but a real pain (if you'll pardon the expression) for the rest of us. A slot was eventually found for 10:20.

The surgery is a modernist brick affair and as inhospitable as can be, with its brown fixtures and no lighting. Behind the glass screen there's a black and white photograph of a pier drifting off into an ocean of the kind which often appears on bereavement cards which hardly put me in the right mood. There are children shouting at each other and for the sake of it and a little girl who's ailment seems to be an inability to walk around without falling over furniture. There are also people who are regulars, all know each other and are sharing news about what's happened since the last time they were here. I secretly hope I'll not be joining them, especially since, well, I don't seem to have quite as many things to talk about as they apparently do.

Eventually my name's called and I find the room of the doctor. Whom I thought I'd never met before. Until it turned out that I went to school with him. He remembered me more that I remembered him, but we both knew enough of the same people to reminisce. It's actually much easier to speak to someone who you're at least vaguely acquainted with than a total stranger and he examined my spots. He hummed, he hared, he said he wasn't really a skin specialist. Then he said that despite that, he is trained to note anything which is life threatening, which these are. Sorry, aren't. They're just points were the skin have become mounds. They're not worth treating and though I could get steroids pumped into them to reduce the swelling they're not life threatening so what's the point?

I thanked him. shook his hand, wished him well and left. Frankly, I feel like a weight's been lifted. I should have visited years ago and done away with the not knowing. If you have something similar you're concerned about I'd urge you to do the same. If it had been something serious them at least I would have been able to deal with it, and now that I know it isn't I can just get on with things. I also know a bit more about my body, I can accept a bit more of my image. And I can look forward to series five of Doctor Who with great interest.