I went to the Doctors yesterday, ‘hello Dr. Rob’ he said, ‘I’m a Dr too you know’ ‘I know’ I said ‘That’s why I’ve come here to talk to you about my health’ ‘O’ he said and got all professional by putting his stethoscope around his neck, unclipping the blood pressure thing, fiddling with his computer, like he knew what he was doing and putting a spaniel like look on his face, ‘So’ he said in the sympathetic voice they had taught him at medical school ‘what’s the problem?’
So I told him, I am afraid that you, dear reader, will have to imagine my symptoms as I still believe in the fact that what I tell my doctor is between him and me, and my wife, of course, and the receptionist as she can pull up my file on the computer, and the nurse who can do the same and probably the cleaner, and the student on work placement whose job it is to rinse out the sample bottles. Yes I believe in full confidentiality.
Anyway basically, and I blame the 1960’s, he told me that I was too fat, too unfit and probably too old! I blame the 1960’s because of the untold damage that some of the ideas that came out of that dull decade have done to our society. I believe that I have, for example, cited before the problems foisted upon us by Feminism which grew out of the 1960’s. Feminism for example has poisoned the relationships between men and women. It has placed barriers between us that are difficult to pull down and created situations where men and women have stopped communicating upon many basic levels, and often the most basic is sex, but I digress.
Once, when you went to the Doctors, it was pretty much a safe bet that you would probably come away with a nice hefty prescription for some heavy weight drugs. Overweight? Try these amphetamines! Depressed, try this mind altering substance for a while. Nowadays they just tell you that you are overweight and that you need more exercise. That you need to ‘balance’ your diet, get your mojo working again (And yes folks the Doctor actually did say that to me) so take more exercise, lose some weight and hey ho all will be fine again. ‘But I wanted DRUGS’ I moaned in the winging voice of a 9 year old child wanting Smarties.
He leaned back in his chair and tried the psychological tactic of putting his hands behind his head to show how superior he was, but all I could see was the damp sweaty bits and the stains from his deodorant. ‘You know Dr Rob’, he said ‘we no longer prescribe drugs for everything under the sun, it makes more sense to find a balance in your life and once you have sorted out your mojo everything else will fall into place’. I nodded and gave into to his impenetrable logic and the fact he wasn’t listening to me anymore. He twiddled with his computer.
‘I’ve booked you in for some blood tests’ he told me and I was dismissed by the overqualified hippy.
I visited the nurse this morning for the blood test having spent the earlier part of the day practising the blood donor routine al la Tony Hancock. As I sat there girding my loins, practising ancient meditative routines to ward of the pain and anguish, and thinking nice thoughts, she was rattling around in the needle drawer looking for the sharpest straightest needle, I think. She looked up and said ‘Have you fasted’ I said 'pardon' thinking she said farted, (I hadn’t not even in fear) ‘Fasted’ she said again, ‘eaten any thing this morning’. ‘OH’ I said, ‘Should I have?’ ‘No’ she said. Testing a needle in an old orange. ‘Well I’ve only had two apples, some cake and two coffees this morning’ I said. ‘Does that count?’ ‘No’ she said gritting her teeth as she forced the best needle through the soft flesh of the Orange, ‘you shouldn’t have eaten anything this morning’ ‘Well the Doctor didn’t say’ I said, ‘Snaffenrassen fassen mumph’ I thought she said with a hint of disappointment in her mumble as she chucked the needle point first into one of those stainless steel kidney shaped bowls with a loud clang!.
Suffice it to say I have to go again on Friday morning for the Blood test, so that means more girding of loins and nothing, not so much as even a Full English Breakfast is to pass my lips after Midnight on Thursday.
All the fault of the 1960’s I say, as apparently all my ailments are the fault of my 'mojo' whatever that is* and the Doctor so laid back he ‘forgot’ to mention that I had to fast, probably because that was part of his hippy routine, fast until lunch then two pieces of Broccoli for lunch, a herb sandwich for tea, then hit the cupboard where all the old pharmaceuticals that they don’t use any more are stored for a hit on something to mellow out for the evening (if not on call that is).
Who’d be a Dr hey?
* according to the online dictionary http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=Mojo
a 'mojo is: a Cuban seasoning of garlic, olive oil, and sour (Seville) oranges used as a dip, marinade, or sauce so what the *&%"*& is the Doc on about? How DO I get ma mojo working maaaan?
Posts
7 comments:
VERY wonderful blog Dr Rob.
I am so excited as I know people you know.
Do you want me to tell you who they are??
And also.
Why is it THE Ukraine and not 'Ukraine'.
Tell me that important thing.
It is Ukraine not ‘the’ Ukraine. My Ukrainian wife and all her Ukrainian friends scolded me for using ‘The’ whenever I spoke about Ukraine. I think it is related to how we perceived countries and spoke about them, so for instance we would say ‘The’ Soviet Union of which ‘The’ Ukraine was a part, but we don’t say ‘The’ Georgia’ . And we don’t say ‘The’ England or ‘The’ France or ‘The’ America. My guess is its just an idiosyncratic piece of linguistic jiggery-pokery. Ukrainians want ‘The’ Ukraine to be just Ukraine thank you very much!
...a 'mojo is: a Cuban seasoning of garlic, olive oil, and sour (Seville) oranges used as a dip, marinade, or sauce...but more importantly, a mojito is 3 oz of light rum, juice of one lime, 2 teaspoons sugar, several sprigs of mint and soda water. Lightly muddle the mint and sugar with a splash of soda water in a mixing glass until the sugar dissolve and you smell the mint. Squeeze the lime into the glass, add rum and shake with ice. Strain over cracked ice in a highball glass. Top with soda water, garnish with mint sprig and serve.
You won't care about your mojo or anything else after you drink this.
Lin, in the spirit of pure research I will give this a go and see if my mojo reacts, only in the interests of pure research you understand! I will keep you posted...
That fooled me you've got two comments boxes. Switch off the blogger one in your template. Anyway Doctor Zacchary Smith would be my guess. Him from "Lost in space".
Hello hello
What cheeky bloggers we all are at the UoP. May I request the location/faculty in which you reside? I am an Exmouth girl myself - but you probably worked that out already.
Good luck with the 'bloods'. Tell the nurse that you are terrified of constriction around an artery. See how that impacts on your experience.
Post a Comment