Oh bless the beautiful little cotton socks of my GP surgery (and the invention of the SHOUT service that does not require verbal communication, and the people who have worked to help me accept my needs).
With the encouragement of the volunteer on the SHOUT line last night, I psyched myself up for one last phone call (feel I'm doing well on the resilience front here!), to my GP surgery, to explain my situation and ask for help.
I went in autism-focused, spiel written, and began with "I will read it out. Please don't interrupt until the end because I have autism and will get mixed up." She listened and waited until I had finished, before asking if she could continue. She said she would get a doctor to ring me back.
And here we reach the climax of the work I have achieved: instead of being a good patient (or just being overwhelmed and on autopilot) I responded that that would be a difficult problem!! And the beautiful woman uttered glorious words, the like of which have never previously been heard from the mouth of a GP receptionist (or something...): "would email be any better?"
Dear lady you, you, are the Queen. Nothing would be better than email.
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