The title is a lie of sorts, as Blackadder might say.
There is not much unbridled hilarity at all. A mild amusement, yesterday. Another visit to the Dr. At the risk of boring everyone witless about health problems, I could definitely see the funny side of things yesterday.
Armed with my scan results, my far-too-high blood pressure, & my itching twitching body, off I went to keep my appointment. I arrived on time, found the waiting room to be crowded, with some smallish extremely rowdy children acting out various games, the rules & limits of which, must have been known only to themselves.
Looking at the pained & horrified faces of other waiting patients, I opted to sit outside, on the 'overflow seat'. This is a wooden slatted seat, with wrought iron, legs, & arms, chained to the concrete to prevent thievery, & it is none too warm a site, but at least it is a seat, under shelter.
I always take a book to while away the hour/s wait. I watched people coming & some going. I noticed there never seemed to be a vacant seat. The mother of the rowdies eventually emerged, carrying a baby! I wondered what she had been thinking, to want another, as I watched & listened to her trying vainly to quieten the children to a dull roar, as they roiled & boiled around her, shouting & cuffing. I could scarcely believe there were only actually 3 older children, but 2 were boys, which may be why they seemed so boisterous.
A tottery old man was helped into the surgery waiting room, accompanied by a large 'sweaty' looking man in huge boots. They grabbed seats inside, & settled in to wait. A large pleasant lady arrived & sat next to me. We chatted a little, & then it began to rain. The temperature dropped several degrees. The pleasant lady dived in the door, & grabbed the only-just-vacated seat. I glumly watched, as more people came out, more elderly & tottery went inside. I felt I was younger, & not really sick, so they probably needed a seat indoors, more than I did.
A mother & her adult daughter, complete with heavy cold, arrived to sit next to me. Cramped indeed on the wooden seat. Still trying to read. The door opened & out bounded a man of perhaps Italian origin, with a wonderful accent. He told us, in his loud & rich voice, he had to come outside for a 'Breather'. The 'sweaty man' he told us, was a wino! He reeked of it. He also had a bottle, & kept taking fresh swigs!
Then his wife was called into the Dr's room, & he bounced back inside. I anxiously peered to see if there were vacant seats. There appeared to be only one, next to the 'wino'. I was, by then, shivering a little, & my backside was cramped & cold too.
Suddenly I saw 3 vacant seats, I jumped up, informing the other women, & we all dived inside to relative warmth. The seat I got, was rather too close to the Wino. I was treated to sour wafts of whatever, everytime he took a deep swig. He groaned on about waiting, waiting. The tottery old, kept ranting at the Wino. All unintelligable. The TV blared out the daily news. A woman with a child never took breath, as she chatted animately to the woman next to her. She blah blahed so much, she never even heard the Dr call her name. The receptionist had to almost scream at her, over the general hubbub in the waiting room!I began to feel I had died & gone to hell. Noisy, smelly Hell!
Out came Dr P, he called my name, & I reeled into his surgery. He looked at me, & told me I looked as if I was in pain. I told him it was not pain, it was partly the smell of the Wino, & partly being cold.
Blood pressure far too high, still. Ideal drug could not be given to me, it would kill me, & that would be 'embarrassing'. 'Ha ha' I told him, 'I wouldn't be embarrassed, I would just be dead.'
'Yes' he replied 'But Gom would not be pleased, & I could get into trouble, so I wont give you that one'.
The itching skin is probably making me have high blood pressure, I told him.
'Let me see it again? Hmmn! That looks bloody awful!'
'I will just take a biopsy. Lie down on your stomach, I will take one from your back.'
The needle goes in, stinging like mad.
The phone rings. He leaps to answer it, tells me not to move, 'There is blood on your back! Don't move!'
More phone talk.
Back to take the biopsy.
Phone rings again, off he rushes to pick up the phone, turns to look at me, flings down the phone, rushes over, 'You are bleeding like a stuck pig!!' Grabs dressings, puts those over the blood, leaps off to the phone again.
Finishes with the phone, mutters to me, 'It is not the patients that take the time, it is all the bloody phone calls.' He grabs huge gobs of gauze to stem the bleeding. Tapes them to my back, tapes the bra back down too- 'To hold it in place.'
Shows me the biopsy, explains a little about it. Another phone call. Back to me, checks the scan. Tells me it is ok. Tells me to immediately take the new pill for the blood pressure. Tells me to return for another check, & biopsy results in a week. In between all this, he has asked about Gom. They like each other. He once called Gom an arsehole, for not taking his medication properly, & though it may sound strange, Gom really liked him for that!
Off I reeled, looking like a Hunchback. The mild non-allergy tape has left great welts of red itching patches all over my back. The amounts of blood on the dressing looked like far too much for one small slice out of me. Hilarious indeed!
At least it is not bleeding after the shower this morning. Itching, yes, but not bleeding.
We have our son to stay for a few precious days. It will be nice. We feel we don't see enough of him, as is the case with adult children. He invariably makes me laugh. He makes Gom & I both laugh.
He has an old car, which he loves. It is 1962 Valiant. He is spending a small -or maybe large- fortune to get it back on the road. He doesn't need it for travel to work, it is easier to get the bus in the city. He loves the car, & over the years has spent a lot of money keeping it.
He is a softy about animals & insects. He once had a resident Huntsman spider that lived in the car. His partner was terrified of the spider, but he kept telling her it was harmless. He almost died when it once appeared over the peak of his cap, as he was driving on the Freeway! He is still not sure how he didn't have an accident.
It would still be there today, if spiders live so long, but a mechanic saw it one day, & squashed it. Son was quite upset, but didn't say a word.
Friday, May 23
The title is a lie of sorts, as Blackadder might say.