Happy memories — 13 Comments

  1. Wot!?!?!?

    You got to see a doctor!?!?!?!?

    All ours are on holiday. The other half managed to get an appointment with only 10 days notice. The good ones have all left the practice and she got a registrar who was, quite frankly, next to useless…

    • Ah but Doc is technically not quite a doctor.  He trained as a vet which is much the same thing provided we check which instruments he is about to use [particularly hypodemic nerdles].  The real doctor is usually too pissed to see anyone.

      Anyway I needed someone to confirm that I am alive.  It’s quite important to me.

      • To be doctored by a vet or vetted by a doctor, that is the question.  🙂  Seeing the vet’s “bedside manner” is way better than NHS doctors’ I keep telling our dogs how lucky they are!

  2. Years ago my German GP at the time was having to listen to my lungs for some reason or the other, no idea now whys. I was stripped to the waist and he was standing behind me with the end of his stethoscope (something about that sentence just sounds wrong) just below my shoulder blades. He’d bark commands at me to breathe in , breathe out, pant etc. Suddenly he exclaimed ‘You are a SMOKER!’…well actually what he said was “Sie sind Raucher!” . I was rather shocked and and inquired how he had been able to discern that fact- was there something in my lungs? To which he replied he had smelt the smoke on me as I had undressed, that there was no way to tell by listening to the lungs whether or not someone smoked and he just liked to scare smokers. Bastard.

    I changed my GP shortly after that.

    • I am very happy with my vet GP.  I once had a conversation about smoking and he asked me if I enjoyed it.  I said I did and that I found it very relaxing.  He said that stress and tension were nasty killers and that I was probably far better off with my baccy.  I just wish there were more vets GPs like him.

      Fuck me but this site is slow!  Nothing wrong with the servers or my Interweb connection.  Weird!

  3. That Golden Virginia stuff in the green packet sends me into raptures and I’ve never been one for smoking and no-one in my family does either, so I don’t know where I get it from.  Think I might buy a packet just so I can have a sniff once in a while, quick before it’s banned.  They’re bound to ban chocolate soon and red wine.  Goodness knows what’ll I do then to get some pleasure from life!



  4. “That Golden Virginia stuff in the green packet sends me into raptures”

    Probably because GV isn’t actually tobacco 😛

    What you can smell is the sugar, honey, antifreeze, embalming fluid and every other one of the 400 odd chemicals/e-numbers they use to beat the tobacco into submission, to homogenize it.  Grandad’s vet was probably getting high off the tonka bean extract/lavender/geranium oil and whatever else they put in to Condor that makes it smell like Grandma’s knicker drawer.

    ….me, a tobacco fascist? Jawohl!

  5. “Anyhows he prodded and poked and took blood pressure and shit …..”

    Stool analysis? Goodness, your doc’s thorough.

    • Yeah, but did he stick his finger up his bum to check on the prostate? Now that’s thorough! And really annoying as well.

  6. My 6 month checkup up usually consists of all the things you listed plus pissing in a bottle and pulling several pints phials of blood leaving me weak and shaky. Wait…I’m always weak and shaky so that doesn’t count at least.

    Then, about 2 weeks later, the blood/piss work-up results get mailed to me with all sorts of notes, remarks, underlines, and exclamation points that my GP wrote in the margins where she bitches and complains about how my A1C is up (blood glucose level–diabetes), my cholesterol is up and my kidney filtration percentage is down.

    Well, I don’t eat much sugary stuff as I never really had a sweet tooth to speak of, I refuse to take anti-cholesterol pills since taking “statins” is rather dangerous to your health, and if my kidneys go altogether and I end up facing dialysis then I’ll just have my wife shoot me and bury me in the backyard. Preferably arse-up so I can “moon” my rotten neighbor.

Hosted by Curratech Blog Hosting