Got a Vocational Driving Licence? Then don't have a heart attack.

Now, while I was very much aware that my family has a problem with cholesterol and hereditary heart problems, I wasn't expecting my ticker attack to come much before I was fifty or so. So much for that theory, as you already know (if you don't, try reading from the first blant entry, eh?!).

So. I've had to notify DVLA(DMG) (that's the Driver Vehicle Licencing Centre (Driver Medical Group) at Swansea in Wales), who sent me a massive questionnaire, the only question missing appearing to be relating to inside leg measurements. Now my employer, a national-level bus operating company, has got in on the act. I got hauled in (on my sick leave) to see the depot governor yesterday; they're sending me to see the company doctor, some thirteen miles away from where I live.

This takes the wotsit a bit: I have to drive or take public transport PAST my depot, and then go the same distance again on top of this to get to the surgery where this company doctor operates out of, making it two hours by public transport, or an hour if I drive (which I shouldn't - DVLA say you must leave it a month before driving your car after a heart attack). So, I'm stuck with public transport.

Now normally, this isn't a huge problem, since as a London Bus Driver, I get free travel on the Buses, Tubes, Trams, and 'London Overground' brand trains. However, where they're sending me, there's very little in the way of public transport going past the surgery in question, and according to the TfL journey planner, a ten minute or so walk from the nearest bus stop - presumably at commuter pace, or "QUICK MARCH!" rate; that means I better double the walking time required, to be safe. Wonderful. What are they trying to do, give me another heart attack?!

Add to this, I have to bring all the paperwork I've accrued since my heart attack, including copy letters from the heart specialists at Kings, prescription notes, all my medication, Uncle Tom Cobbly and All.

Am I impressed? Not one bleedin' bit. I wouldn't mind so much if they'd asked me to go to the depot for the company quack to be able to poke and prod me on Monday, but no, they want me to naff off over to south west bleedin' London for said poking and prodding. They really are taking the bodily fluids here, lemme tell you.

What is it about Company Doctors? Are they like Ship's Doctors, one cruise away from a malpractice Suite, or what? Do they not make house (er... Company Premises) calls?

Oh yeah... almost forgot... they want me to fill in yet another bloody medical questionnaire!

Talk about adding insult to injury!