WE JUST NEEDED SOME REASSURANCE

I AVOID a visit to the doctor’s surgery like the plague, but there are moments in life when nothing else will do.

One of those times sneaked up on me and my wife Katie shortly after the birth of our first child, Freddy, seven weeks ago.

He was bothered by some symptoms that had lingered since he was born, and an evening Googling only dredged up a heap of nonsense that left us none the wiser.

So the next day we called our GP and asked if we could pop in – we wanted reassurance from a professional who could poke and prod Freddy and tell us everything was going to be all right. Any new parent will remember those terrifying days when, sleep-deprived like never before, you worry that every cough or cry is a sign you’re getting it dangerously wrong.

Yet the receptionist at our usually faultless GP surgery could barely have been less accommodating. No, we couldn’t see the GP – they would phone us later that day.

When the GP called, he said he couldn’t give us definitive advice without seeing Freddy, and so he booked us an urgent appointment for that evening… at another surgery. This only made us more anxious.

The doctor who saw us had no notes on Freddy, nor even any information on why we were there. Thankfully, it took her no more than ten minutes to decide there was nothing wrong with him. More importantly, we were sent home with the comforting words that can only ever be delivered face-to-face.

Quite why our own GP couldn’t have done the same, I have no idea – and neither did the marvellous doctor we did see.