I'm beginning to suspect my doctor is a closet drama queen. He's always sending me off hither and thither for bloody tests. I've got very good at weeing in jars and having blood samples taken. Went off for another few today. I was at the doctor on Friday for another lot of flu meds to chase off any lingering germs and the bugger hands me a sheaf of test thingies.
"Oi. What's this?" says I.
"Just a test," he says airily.
"Just my aunt Fanny. 'Heart monitor' it says on this one. What's that in aid of?"
He waves his hand. "Just checking up on things."
Pig's arse. Ten bucks says he's got a bet on with his mate down the corridor to see how many tests they can run on one poor guinea pig without Medicare (NHS) getting suss. Either that or he thinks I'm dead and is trying to break it to me gently. Lot of bollocks and melodrama.
So anyways, the upshot is I'm not allowed to go walkies or have a shower for 24 hours. Bastard. I'm back to the doctor tomorrow so he can read the pathology report and tell me there's bugger-all wrong with me ticker. Which I could've told him for free.
Will do the comments replies here again. Haven't got the energy for any extra clicking quite frankly.
Piggy & Tazzy - Welcome. I expect some of the Dear Old Things did piss their knickers. Some of them do it without much provocation, poor dears, judging from the occasional whiff on the bus.
Jen - I never did get the paper to see if anyone was charged. It was a surprisingly blood-free accident. But only because the woman who got hit didn't get the chance to rip the other guy's head off.
Flu shots are allotted sparingly on the Central Coast. We've got so many Dear Old Things that they tend to get dibs.
Device dear - Dried Frog Pills would've been very handy. Nowhere is sacred.
Dolf & Di - Thank yer kindly.
Pattie - I'm back to the doctor again tomorrow. I should start charging him to see me, the bastard.
I'm off to update my Ducktionary then have a nice long sulk. Will keep you posted.