Jabba Jabba Jab
I called down to Doc yesterday.
“and what can I do for you?” says he.
“I’m looking for a second opinion” says I.
He looked a little disgruntled. In fact he looked like he had no gruntle at all.
“So you’ve had a diagnosis elsewhere?” says he.
“I did indeed” says I.
“Who did you consult?” says he.
“Me” says I. “I double checked with Doctor Google too”.
“Aha! So I am your third opinion. And what was your diagnosis?”
“Postherpetic Neuralgia” says I. “It’s driving me up the fucking walls.”
He checked around the affected area and prodded me a couple of times.
“Spot on” says he. “I can concur. Excellent diagnosis.”
He suggested some tablets. I said I had tried them before and they did fuck all. I then told him that I had sampled a few various tablets and capsules that I had found at the back of the kitchen drawers and that I had found one that worked. He was delighted and wrote me out a prescription. It will probably cure me of Kennel Cough or grow me a pair of tits as a side effect but what the hell.
“Do you want the Jab?” says he.
“Fuck off” says I. “If that’s the booster you can stick it, but not in me. I swear I got the Shingle Bells as a result of that fucking vaccine!”
He said nothing.
“You’re not denying it?” says I.
“No I’m not. God only knows what the side effects of that vaccine are. You’re probably right. Anyway it’s just the ordinary Flu jab this time.”
“The ordinary one? None of that mRNA shit?”
“No. Just the ordinary one you had last year and the year before.”
He jabbed me.
I left feeling quite pleased with myself.
I had passed the test.
I am now a Doctor.
Brilliant just brilliant. You talented bugger.
And your hand writing is illegible,
and you drink more than your patient.
I once told a consultant that I checked with Doctor Google and he asked who he was!
I was first referred to Dr Google by Daughter who is another long time patient of his. She’s a semi-paramedic so I trust her judgement.
You actually have to go and see a doctor!? How quaint. Over here, The Envy Of The World™ has moved on from that old fashioned way of doing things and we now have telephone appointments. It seems all that stuff that use to go on, like taking your pulse and your blood pressure, measuring height and weight, looking at you and noting your physical condition was all so much nonsense and a waste of time. All the doctor needs is to hear your voice to make a diagnosis.
Yup. Still in the Dark Ages, though fortunately he doesn’t go for blood letting or leeches. As part of my health insurance I do apparently have access to an online doctor, a symptom checker and my own online physiotherapist. I tend to avoid the latter animal as physiotherapists all seem to have an unhealthy obsession with exercise for some reason.
I hope your doctor does not read your blog.
@ Doonhamer on 6th October 2021 at 8:17 pm
I fear the second statement is not correct: Grandad drinks the same as his patient; neither more nor less.
Actually he is one of the few in the area who is aware of it. I don’t know if he still reads it, but he has been fairly busy for the last couple of years so I doubt it.
“I am now a Doctor.”
Are you accepting Medicare patients?
No. Sorry. Private patients only.
I’d make an appointment but I doubt you reimburse for mileage. Besides, travelling upwards of 3000 miles just to visit a doc just isn’t in the cards at the moment. On top of that You’re probably not a member of the VA’s Community Care program. That and my car would probably flood.
Too bad since I’ve been sick for the last month and I’m still getting over it. Doctor Google is of no use as I tried to enter my symptoms and all it came up with was that blasted Covid-19. So I went and got one of those swab-up-the-nose tests (oh so accurate) and it came out negative. So who knows what it is. I suppose you could take one look at me and tell me what this damn stuff is?
Byy the sound of things I would probably diagnose a dose of Covid-20. The mainstream medics seem to be hung up on the older version.