20 March, 2012

Doctor Feelgood

I’m back. I know I've been awfully neglectful, and I don't deserve you.  I’ve just emerged from a relationship.  God almighty, I had forgotten how much work they are. I also got a second cat.  But here I am my lovelings, and already I have a tale for you.

I had to go to the doctor.  I have a little mole on my arm that I wanted checked out.  I suffer from chronic hypochondria, and a mortal fear of Cancer.  So if I get so much as a freckle, I have nightmares about chemo, and MRIs, and sad-faced medicos looking at me with sympathetic eyes as they deliver the awful truth.  As a result, I get this shit checked out. Pronto.

So I turn up to the doctor’s office, and am ushered through immediately.  The doctor is a portly fellow in his late 50s.  He bears an uncanny resemblance to Graham Kennedy.  A fat, pale, lonely Graham Kennedy.

He takes a look at the mole and says – "oh, it’s just a sunspot.  In all my career, I’ve never seen one of those turn into Cancer."

Phew.

He takes my blood pressure.  “Hm, your blood pressure’s a bit high, anything unusual you think might be causing that?”

“Well,” I said, “I am going through a bit of a messy breakup at the moment, which has been quite stressful.” 

“That’d do it.” He checks my file. “Oh, I see you’re 44.”

“Er, yes.  Yes I am.”

He leans back in his chair, puts his pudgy hands behind his head and gives me the once over.  Then, to my horror, he continues, “I’m single myself you know.  Been through the divorce, the separation, the works.  But you know, now my kids want to stay at my place.  I’m the cool parent.  I’m a bit of a rebel.”

I start collecting my things to run.  But he wasn’t done yet.

“You know, I think we should biopsy that spot.  Why don’t you come back here in a month, when things have settled down for you.  Oh, and here, take one of these.” He handed me a leaflet.  A leaflet for a fucking match-making service.  I kid you not.  On the front it had the usual badly designed marketing guff, but on the back, well, on the back it had an extract from a story in The Australian. 

It reads:
Loneliness Harms Health

WASHINGTON: Lonely people are more likely to get sick and die young, and a team of US researchers may have found out why: their immune systems are haywire."
That's it. Because we all know that when you're single, you're doomed to either develop and unhealthy feline obsession, or die a slow death of emotional starvation.  I know lots of single folk, and not one of them is lonely.

Anyway, I'm not too keen on this biopsy business.  And right now there's a struggle going on between my physical revulsion and my hypochondria.   The hypochondria will probably win. 

Ready for your internal?

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