Quack

 I am often accused of worrying unnecessarily about my health. However, I believe that there is nothing excessive about an annual health check when it has recently been necessitatious to have a basal cell carcinoma and a squamous cc excised not to mention one having glandular troubles (and no, that is most definitely not a euphemism for excess pounds acquired by gluttonous consumption of cream buns; for it’s gluten free jam doughnuts what are my weakness). Why it positively behoves the mistress to be mindful of ‘er ‘ealth and to take heed when she feels ever so liverish, never humble, mind, simple of mind, yes, humble, never!
So I scheduled an appointment with my general practitioners.

I hasten to say that it was a very confused telephone conversation I had with the receptionist when booking a double appointment ( I had a list of things that I wished to discuss (not excessive, p r a c t i c al!)). So a week before my appointment I rang to confirm and it would seem that an appointment had been scheduled for Baby Bel’s 12 month check up featuring immunisations galore. I duly told receptionist that I was in fact Baby Bel and required a more age appropriate medical.

Phew, confusion avoided, double appointment assured, and the worry of finding a 12 month old baby for that initial  appointment evaporated, I shutdown the Ebaby search  and tucked into a lite low gi jam doughnut.

Relief, peace of mind and no June Allyson endorsed panty liner required.

Imagine my surprise when I turned up for my appointment and the doctor, a new one, well I had never been doctored by her, said she thought she’d only have time to do my “Puppa Smurf – if you are with me” (I’m quoting the cockin’ doctor here, nsrs!!) to which I replied if you mean Pap Smear yes, I do get your drift (as they used to say Milwaukee way in the 1970’s when they were trying to pretend that it was the 1950’s and were shouting “sit on it” every 15 seconds. (Apparently that expression (sit on it not puppa smurf) dates back to a Leiber Stoller tune penned for the Coasters, yours, language it’s a living thing).

Um, back to the 21st century and conversation at the Cabinet of Dr Cutesy…. I added that I was somewhat vexed by being rushed as I’d made a double appointment and needed to discuss a few matters and have blood tests. It was my annual medical after all. I sulkily  stuffed my A3 sheet listing ailments in my ugg boot. Upon seeing this insufficiently furtive action, she assured me that she’d do a “quick Puppa Smurf and see what happens.”

 Medicine - let’s see what happens, why don’t we? A possible title for some medical programme for juniors? And as for old “Puppa Smurf” the prospect of that old, tiny, blue character hitching a ride on the speculum, no doubt sporting a miner’s helmet with light  to examine one’s cervix was really too, too much. Following that hurried exploration it was on to the blood pressure check and some further curious ‘banter’ about other medical matters with  cutesy euphemisms to which i had to enquire if they too were cartoon characters. Consultation concluded.

And to think, my dears, that the encounter took place a few days before my special day.

While I like to celebrate others’ birthdays (my own special brand of schadenfreude I guess or is it existentialism) the prospect of my own always fills me with despair. But guess what  it's always darkest before the dawn and sure enough when Civic Video sent me a birthday text I knew that things were looking up and  it was going to be a birthday to remember, which also happens to be my favourite Alan Alda film.