While Eton's old boys demolish Britain, Doris' health saga has escalated apace, so let's ignore global ructions and crack on, to catch up.
To recap; Doris (60s, widow, hates asking for help, not her real name) has excruciating pain she thinks is sciatica. Currently bereft of a doctor because her GP retired, Doris is having trouble obtaining medical advice.
In last week's episode, Primecare sent her packing.
Staggering out of Primecare in rain, tears and agony, she wrestled the unwieldy ute to White Cross and bravely confronted the reception desk. (NB, Doris, while unafraid of heights, sharks, rats and robust debates, is irrationally frightened of health professionals and receptionists).
Probably by now hallucinating with pain and fear, Doris suddenly thought the receptionists behind the White Cross bench looked like three poisonous cane toads protecting precious doctors from desperate patients. Nevertheless, our friend completed the requisite form and read the signs which, to her horror, announced a consultation could cost up to $81.