Shirley Tart: Waiting to see a doc? Thank your lucky stars

Take the latest blood tests. First batch at the GP's surgery came back more or less OK, so let's try something in a bit more depth.

The following day, I was at the hospital having a biopsy for another matter.

And don't forget to nip back to the GP for that second batch of blood test results. This time there was a positive – well a negative actually – with something missing which needed replacing with pills.

I arrived half an hour before the surgery opened, hoping to be first in the queue. In your dreams, girl.

With a couple of dozen people arriving even earlier, an icy morning and a cheerful wind suddenly blowing round every corner, it was cold. Very cold. The moaners were having a field day. When we finally shuffled in, the warm air was extraordinarily welcome.

Within minutes the place was full as I discovered there were already six other people before me to see the doctor.

But I wasn't giving up now.

I found a seat in a corner, turned quickly and banged my head on a wall. It's probably about now that you're trying to fathom what the devil I'm talking about.

But first back to the waiting room. Babies were tearful, a young mum was sharing her life story with a fellow patient (by that I mean the entire room) and there were still sighs and sorrows at having to wait a bit longer.

Now look here. We might have been living in waterlogged Somerset where a cup of tea was precious, never mind medical help.

We could have been Syrians, desperate to escape a war-torn, land.

We might have belonged to barren Africa where birth and death come so perilously close together.

Instead, we have the facility of a warm and comfy surgery, endlessly patient receptionists and nurses, doctors par excellence at our call – plus the pharmacy next door.

It's count your blessings time, folks. And thanks a lot, doc!