I've been in many medical tight spots.
If you have a rare and complicated condition that requires lots of surgical intervention and drugs so hardcore they come with a health warning, you will have faced some pretty momentus battles.
Battles for the right treatment or timely treatment or a new referral or a not-yet-quite-licensed-for-your-condition medication.
The bit most people won't know is that not only are the battles often life or death (and I use not a jot of hyperbole here) but that you face a surreal system that seems designed by a malicious sprite in partnership with Freud and Castro.
You can just hit an NHS brick wall where you know you need a certain thing to happen, but you just can't achieve it. You can pull strings, you can beg, you can provide evidence. Nothing. If you hit The Wall there is no way under through or around it.
You might think I mean for a new hip or a quick nip and tuck, but no, I actually do mean when you're critically ill.
You say something hurts, they reply "that's not possible"
You say you need help soon, they reply "We've got nothing til September"
You explain all the reason's they should, but "computer says no"
You try to get letters or referrals but they make no difference.
Oh boy, have I been there. More times than I can remember.
Now, however, suddenly it would seem that I have a "Good GP".
Blinking into the light, I am starting to see what a vaaaaast difference it can make. She writes stuff for me and listens and "get's it" and she's in my corner, and she even makes jokes and.......
I can hardly bring myself to write any more. I've had so many bad experiences, I can hardly begin to believe I might have found a good one.
But certainly, for the moment, she kicks-ass like a ninja and it's come at a time where a ninja GP is very, very, helpful.
She may yet restore my faith in the whole lot of 'em.