...going commando...

A thin young man, wearing very baggy shorts minced uncomfortably into the Unit.

"Please have a seat over there Sir."

The chairs are a pleasing combination of a laminated blond wood back with a thick , soft , padded cloth seat and metal legs...an ideal combination really...its light enough for patients to pick up and throw at the staff...and the seat acts as the ideal environment for every bodily fluid that seeps into it, to grow and multiply...a first-class cross-infection vector...which of course is exactly why some dickhead at head-office bought them...

"Good day Sir...what can I do for you today then ?"

Well...its my crotch mate...I've got this sharp pain...

"Right...how long have you had the pain for ? What does it feel like ?"

Well it started at work this week...when I lifted this heavy box...it feels like a burning pain...in the side there...but I'm worried about my balls ...right?

"OK...well if you'd like to stand up and drop your pants then Sir, I'll have a look and feel of your testicles..."

You wot ??

He leapt up out of the chair , knocking it over , and stood cowering at the back of the room , both hands clasped protectively over his testicles.

You want to have a look ?!?

And feel my balls!?!

...I'm not one of those...I've never had another man touch my balls!!

*sigh*

"Well Sir...I know that I have an expensive haircut...and that I'm wearing a slightly fruity cologne today...and that my nails are clean...but honestly...I'm a vegetarian...and I can assure you that I am certainly not going to enjoy this experience either...but for you at least,it has the advantage that it might just save your life...whilst for me...well...its probably just going to put me off my lunch...in fact the appeal of the gnocchi with Gorgonzola sauce is already rapidly disappearing..."

Are you taking the piss ??

"Not yet , no Sir...although I do need to dipstick your urine before you go home..."

( "Oy" )

"But I'm easy Sir...its entirely up to you...its mind over matter really...I don't mind..."

No funny stuff then !! OK ??

And then he dropped his shorts...and of course-no surprise really-...he wasn't wearing any underwear.

It remains a source of mystery to me that so many patients,male and female,young and old,choose not to wear any underwear...about a third of the patients in fact...particularly the old women...although as one said to me last week , 'it saves time dear'

After a thorough and exhaustive examination-that brought tears to the eyes of one of us-,I decided that the pain was simply muscular .

"Right...that's all finished then," I said,peeling off my gloves. " I just need to scribble some notes and then we can have a chat about what I think is causing the pain...so just have a seat for a few minutes please Sir"

And of course , dear reader, you know what he did already don't you ?

He sat his bare,wrinkly,pimply,be-ring-wormed bottom down onto the chair.

"Good grief man...pull up your pants before you sit down on the chair why don't you !"

Wot ? Well why didn't you tell me to pull up my pants ? How did I know you were finished ?

"Well I think the give-away was when I said to you, 'that's all finished then' and then took my gloves off !"

We later fortunately managed to swop the chair with one in the General Managers office.
I knew head office would approve.

Green Monkey Disease

Orright mate !?!

"Yes...fine thank you Sir...and what can I do for you today ?"

Well mate...what it is...I was fine last night...but when I woke up this morning I was all red with all these spots

"Right"

Indeed , the patient looked like he had been spray-painted scarlet and then had the 'Blister-fairy' sprinkle his shoulders and nose with blisters.

And what it is...I was watching this program on the telly...yeah ?...and it was about these blokes in Africa...and they got this red rash and all these spots...and then they died...Green Monkey Disease it was...

"I see...so have you ever actually been to Africa ?"

Well...I was in Ibiza last week...

"Right...well...I think that you will find that ,-technically-,that Ibiza is not in fact in Africa "

Yerh? So whats wrong with me then?

"Well...fortunately for you...of all the nurses and doctors at work, in England, today,I'm one of the few people who has actually seen Green Monkey Disease...in the flesh as it were...so...I think that its unlikely that scientists in space suits are going to come running into the Unit and pull you out..."

"So...with this nice weather that we have been having...were you on the beach yesterday by any chance ?"

Yerh...great weather...me and the missus took some lager down the beach and spent the day there

"And did you fall asleep by any chance ?"

Well yerh...I mean...we got a little pissed...well you would,wouldn't you? Nice hot day like that...cold beer ...

"Right...well Sir, that would explain the sunburn then."

...and I can see clearly now...not...

"So...good morning...what can I do for you today Ma'am ?"

The patient was a pleasant looking,middle-aged woman in a cheap security officers' uniform.

Well...its this headache...I just can't get rid of it...and I spoke to my boss because its stopping me from going to work...I'm a security officer at a supermarket...and she told me to phone my doctor... and he can't see me until next week...and then I phoned NHS Direct who told me to come here...because I could be dying...so I came here

"I see...how long have you had the headache for then ?"

About...umhh...3 months

"Right.Three months...you do realise that this is an emergency service ?"

Yerss?

"Any reason you havn't come in any earlier ?"

Well I do work you know!!

("And so-you think that 'Emergency' is Latin for 'come in when ever it suits you!!!!!!!!")

"Uh huh...OK...do you have any neck stiffness ? Does the pain get worse if you look at the light ? Any vomiting ?"

No...well...I don't think so...?

"Have you taken any medicine for the pain ? Does anything that you do take the pain away ?"

No...I don't like taking tablets...my mother never believed in them...

And so the full medical history and examination starts...

"So...were you doing anything in particular when the pain first started ? Do you play any sports for example ? You don't remember hitting your head on anything ? You weren't assaulted by someone at work ?"

No...I don't think that I've injured myself...I think that the pain started when I moved here from Manchester...three months ago...

"Ok...that's good...so you didn't have any pain like this when you lived in Manchester ?"

No...well...yes...when I first moved there I did have this same pain...

"So what changed that the pain went away ?"

Well my boss there sent me to the doctor...

"And what did he say ?"

It was a woman doctor what I saw

"OK...what did she say ?"

Well...she didn't know what was wrong either...but she sent me to get some glasses

"Go on please..."

Well...I went to the man and he said that my eyesight was really bad...and so he gave me some glasses to wear...and he said that my eyesight would improve if I wore the glasses...and that the headaches would go away...

"Right...and the headaches stopped then ?"

Yes

"OK...so why arn't you wearing the glasses any more ? Did they break ? Have you lost them ?"

Well...when I left Manchester I went back to the man and gave him the glasses back...because...you know...I was moving to here...oh...and the headaches had stopped...

"Right...do you understand that your eyes do not actually improve when you wear glasses...its your vision,your eyesight...not the actual physical eyeball that changes ?

Well...HE never told me that...HE said that my eyesight would get better...and that the headaches would go away

"Well...I think that what he meant was that your headaches would go away so long as you continue to wear your glasses..."

Oh...well...HE never told me that!!

"Tell me...was he happy to take the glasses back from you ?"

No...but I thought...you know...obviously...I'm leaving Manchester and so I wouldn't need them anymore

"Well...sorry to tell you this...and I'm not an eye specialist...but you probably need to wear glasses for the rest of your life..."

So...theres nuffink what you can do for me ??

"I'm afraid not Ma'am...you need to go to an optician and get some new glasses "

Well ...I can't afford new glasses...you Australians are all the same...you don't care about us...what a waste of time it was coming to see you today !!

And this is my day off!!

*SIGH*

..baby...just call me,baby...

As most of you know, I have 2 wonderful children; and was present at the birth of each of them. In the room. Sweating and panting. Cursing and vomiting. Watching the transubstantiation process take place as their mother changed from a human being into what can only be described as a troll, squatting on the bed, flailing out with her drip at the midwife whilst screaming “never ever again you fat bastard” at me, like the Hunchback of Notre Dame ; and then she turned back into the most beautiful mother holding the most gorgeous baby.

Twice.

Personally, I 've been a vegetarian ever since.

I used to think-before this placement on the Labour Ward-,that pregnant women were attractive. If of course I ever really, actually gave it any serious thought…its more just the sort of thing that you say, isn’t it?
Like, “what a lovely baby”.

In truth, having been very up-close-and-personal with at least 13 mothers this week, I can report to the Academy, that –and all other variables having been taken into consideration-,that pregnant women are NOT attractive.

I mean, their husbands find them attractive…or at least say that they do….but I think that it’s a type of “pregnancy goggles”, that nature changes the biochemistry of the husbands’ brain to get him to stay with her, so that the woman appears attractive.
So the “beer goggles” provide the opportunity for initiation of conception; and the “pregnancy goggles” provide for completion of conception.

And the whole delivery process is a combination of bizarre and mind-blowing !

The c-section births were the hardest to watch to be honest….its essentially abdominal surgery…with the woman awake, behind a screen, whilst the OBGYN is rooting around in her abdomen, lifting the bladder to one side to make the cut…..and then, suddenly, like a sea-side magician plucking a coin from behind a child’s ear, he pulls a live freaking, wet, crying, ACTUAL human being out of the woman…Lordy lordy.

Well, I managed not to faint, as I stood there clutching my phial of Holy Water in one hand and my testicles in the other….mainly I think because I was expecting Sigourney Weaver to drop from the air-conditioning and shoot the alien stone dead!!

And the so-called “normal vaginal deliveries” were not that easy either.

Honestly, just how does a woman push a 3kg baby with a head measuring 35cm in circumference, out of that tiny hole?

There is pushing and grunting and coughing and spitting and blood and tears and hemorrhoids and vomiting and pain and swearing and gouging and hitting and pushing again and bearing down and IV lines and drugs and shavings and then…. “POP”….there’s an extra person in the room…a red and squirming and wet and slippery and barely breathing and hungry and upset little bundle of joy, demanding immediate gratification…..and its right there….right now!!

So today I helped with the delivery of twins…finally after 2 weeks the staff decided that I could probably be trusted to do something ‘useful’….since they’ve spent the whole week teaching me to suck eggs.

So there I was, holding the mothers Left leg up whilst she pushed…intermittently chatting to her and the dad….and then “whoosh” the little girl was born and I rubbed her down and checked her apgar score and what not and wrapped her up and popped her under the heater in the resusi-crib, like some sort of bizarre hotdog on Satan’s takeaway counter….and then she pushed out the little boy….who was a little flat…needed some very basic resuscitation….just a little suction and some oxygen…and then he too perked up and started to cry.

Oh gosh Eh…that’s really great…said the dad
“Congratulations..lovely babies”
(I can lie with the best of them)
They are…Eh?!
You’ve been so kind and helpful and we can see what you did for Katon
(“ ‘Katon’ …dear lord…give the kid a chance”)
We’d like use your name for his second name ,Eh
What is it?
“Well thank you very much…that’s nice…my name is Lucien”

Oh that’s good name, eh …
Now tell me, what part of Australia do you come from?

...OK..don't believe me!..

Monday morning and the waiting room is packed with the usual mixed bag of unemployed malingers on the one hand , and the working-actually-sick patients on the other, who are naturally unable to see their GP,because the malingers have already booked up every available GP appointment for the week to come...there is also the usual assortment of foreigners who do not wish to register at a GP in case someone in authority asks them for proof of 'right-of-abode' in the UK...and tramps and addicts just trying to get warm

"Mr Jones?"

A thickset middle-aged man,wearing an anorak and several layers of tracksuit clothing,(the clothing clearly never having been used by him for any actual athletic purpose), grumbled up out of his chair, and stomped into the Unit,followed by a grey,fading, nervously twitching middle-aged woman, who I assumed to be his 'partner'

"Good morning Sir....my name is Lucien...please have a seat...you over there please Ma'am...now...what can I do for you today?"

Obviously,its my elbow

"I beg your pardon...obviously your elbow...what do you mean?"....bearing in mind that you are wearing four layers of clothing and I have never seen you before today

Well, he snarls ,obviously its painful and hurts to move and feels hot

"Right...Could you take your jacket off please Sir...and now the tracksuit top please... and now the jersey please...and now the shirt as well please?"

Its really cold in here!

"Yes it is, I'm afraid"

Whys that then ? Don't you know that there are sick people here?

"Ah...well...thats builders for you Sir...marvellous brand new, purpose built Unit...great air conditioning...warm in summer and cold in winter"

Well its all those Poles innit?

He shows me his right elbow-it is red and warm and swollen, looks all 'knobbly', and he has a temperature and feels a little unwell

After the usual history taking and examination I decide that he has a bursitis

"Right Sir...you have a bursitis there...I'm going to prescribe some Ibuprofen and some antibiotics...it'll soon be sorted out"

Bursitis?

"Yes Sir...bursitis"

Well I've never heard of that!!

"Fair enough", I say,handing him a patient-information sheet

He then turns to his partner,who is sitting quietly in the corner...

and...

...as if she has not been in the room during the examination and consultation says to her...

The nurse says that I've got a bursitis...have you ever heard of that?

No , she replies

And then he turns to me...

...as if I have not noticed that his partner is in the room...or that he has been talking to her...or indeed that I have not heard her reply...and says...triumphantly,

Well...my wife hasn't heard of it either!!

"Well Sir...of the three of us in the room , only one of us needs to have gone to University...and the good news is...is that...today...God has chosen me to be that person."

You Australians...you think you're all so clever...

...and the crazies WILL hunt you down...

One of the other disadvantages of being a Nurse-much like being a police officer or paramedic-, is that no matter where you travel, on holiday or business; home or away; first class or cattle class: you always notice the crazies.

And they always notice you back.

They invariably have a dog. A weird dog. Usually a mongrel. But a special mongrel, one of a ‘superbreed’ that the crazy person has developed all by himself…..a ‘new’ or ‘improved’ breed that he hopes will corner some ,as yet unspecified, money-making market…..perhaps a new drugs-sniffing dog…perhaps a new type of sheepdog.

The fact that the dog isn’t wagging its tail and pointing to his bag, thus clearly demonstrating its lack of any ability to actually sniff out drugs, rather passes him by.

The dog is usually , simultaneously , happy and vicious, due mainly to its socialization .

Now I don’t personally like dogs as pets. Indeed, I don’t even like them as lunch.

But if I was the head of the SPCA-or its Canadian equivalent-, I think that it would be mandatory that any one, who wants to own a dog, if they are under 65 years of age, should have a full set of teeth.
No teeth, no dog.
This will protect the dogs.

And of course there are the other, more subtle signs of crazy people:-they invariably travel as couples; one will always look like s/he has been through a famine, whilst the other will look like s/he caused it; they will always have a disproportionate amount of plastic carrier bags, often pushing a supermarket trolley; they will always be inappropriately dressed, usually wearing an overcoat in summer, and of course, not wearing an overcoat in winter.

They will frequently be seen at flea markets selling ‘dog tags’ or bunches of dead flowers or tickets to last nights concert; they will be smoking roll-ups; and you will frequently hear the clink of glass, followed by a satisfied licking-of-lips.

And of course, they will start begging at some time in their interaction with you.

And so, there I was last night, sitting outside a Tim Horton’s shop- (a Canadian chain of coffee-and-donut shops) (great coffee)-in downtown Armpit, sipping my Extra-large cup of French Vanilla coffee, and nibbling on a walnut and chocolate claw (don’t ask!!).

It was dusk; I had just been to the library and was just sitting down, doing some people watching.

It seems that in small towns, that the main Tim Horton’s has rather taken on the role of being the town square, where everybody comes to ‘see and be-seen’-a veritable evening parade.

Much like those little villages in Provence . But without the charm and good looking women. And wine. And cheese. And some haunting refrain. Good conversation and witty banter….oh what the heck, at least they speak English…or an approximation of it.

And so I sipped on my coffee, nodding at all the friendly people who were walking past, and who were wishing me a good evening; and sure enough, along came the crazies.

Hey buddy
“Hello”
So…what you doing?
“Sitting in the sun…eating some cheese…sipping some wine”
(One of my all-time favourite movie lines)
Oh! Eh?
So…we’re passing through, my girlfriend and me...
“Uh huh”

(He was so thin he probably had to run around under the shower to get wet-if he ever had actually showered; had a thin moustache; a baseball cap of indeterminate vintage; and was holding a mongrel dog on a piece of rope. She had the shopping trolley; had successfully won the battle against anorexia; and was dressed in several black bin-bags)

So…we were wondering if you could help us?
With the price of a cup of coffee?

“Dear Lord” I thought, “I know that I’ve disappointed you, but REALLY?…crazies??…on my working holiday??”

“OK…sure…how much do you need?”

$10 would be fine he said,pocketing the note with the speed of a hooker in Portsmouth docks on a friday night when the Fleet has just sailed in
What hat is that you have on your head there buddy…you’re talking kinda funny there?

“It’s a Springbok rugby cap”, I replied .. “You know, rugby world cup winners?”

Oh …right…eh…so…what part of Australia do you come from?

Alexander Graham Bell

So today, I visited the summer home of Alexander Graham Bell, at a place called Baddeck in Nova Scotia.

He moved there in the late 1880’s,using the house first as a summer home, later choosing to live there full time. He built what was to become a 37-roomed house that he called ‘Beinn Bhreagh’, Gaelic for ‘Beautiful Mountain’……or at least, that’s what he told the locals!

The area is truly beautiful…and when I describe it as a picture-perfect-painted-postcard-place, its not because I like alliteration or because I have already used up all the adjectives that I know….but because in truth, it is simply stunning……the scenery and the beauty of the lake are something that a weary eye can take comfort in beholding.

The town runs around a large salt-water lake with the lawn sweeping down to the beach; old weathered clapboard houses, proudly flying the ‘maple leaf’ flag.

He was an interesting man.

His wife-10 years younger than he was-,had started out as his patient.
Uhmmm

She was deaf and had difficulty in speaking
Her father was a millionaire.
Uh huh.

She was also quite good looking.
OK.

And apart from inventing the telephone, he also invented a multi-channel telegraph; formed an aviation consortium that successfully flew the first powered flight in Canada (and thus, in the British Empire, as the guide so tactfully put it).

He also successfully tested and sold hydrofoil boats, indeed even a revolutionary hydrofoil torpedo.

The most amazing telephone he invented though was one that used a beam of sunlight to transmit a message.
Yes, it works. I tried it
Of course, it doesn’t work at night; it doesn’t support text messaging and you can’t take photos.

But, using sunlight, you can talk to anyone in a line-of-sight field.
Amazing

More amazing of course, is that 100 years later, and 30 miles down the road, there are no internet cafes; there is only one cell phone provider; and the locals think that "broadband width" relates to the size of their snow tires.

Oy.

Or as they say here, “Oy….Eh”

"I'll know that accent anywhere"

There are pros and cons to being a Nurse

On the plus side, you will probably always have a job for life-even during a looming world recession. Particularly during a looming world recession.

Even if you actually hate your job
Well, perhaps not the job as much as the patients.

No….actually, it’s the job.

Still.

You also –on occasion-, get to inflict real pain and embarrassment on the sniveling shop assistant who was rude to you yesterday at the computer store and who has come in today with strangulated hemorrhoids-

….Saying as you walk towards him, whilst smearing the KY jelly on your index finger….

“I like to think that we are in a therapeutic relationship Sir, where we work together in equal partnership, and I strive to provide you with the best care, to ensure that we return you to an optimum state of health as soon as possible-so as long as this is only hurting one of us, that’s OK ….now pucker up buddy…. this is not going to hurt me at all!!”

Ah, those halcyon days of youth!!

Its not all bad though….on occasion, you will get biscuits and chocolates form some grateful patient; you get to laugh at the mistakes whilst watching reruns of ‘ER’; and you can get all the Morning-After-Contraceptive you are ever going to need

But of course there are disadvantages.

You are probably never going to be really really rich. Unless you win the lottery.

You are going to find that after 45,you really don’t need the morning-after-pill

And you find that your buttocks just seem to have a life of their own-without any care or attention, they just seem to get bigger and flabbier and fatter, until your arse is so big that it has its own website address.

It’s a bit like being a South African, there are pros and cons….its always good to wear the Springbok jersey whenever any serious rugby game is being played anywhere in the English-speaking world, just to remind the whingeing Poms who actually DID win the world…..people talk to you, even if its only to find out if you have ever had to shoot anyone….or if you have met President Mandela….and the correct response to both is of course, “yes”.

But there are some disadvantages, not least being that for a lot of people the South African accent is apparently indistinguishable from the Australian accent

Every second patient asks me what part of Australia I come from. My standard reply is

“I come from Johannesburg”
Isn’t that in South Africa?
“Yes”
Oh
“That’s alright…..you Welsh people sound all the same to me”
I’m not Welsh-indignantly
“No sh*t Sherlock!!”


And so there I was on Wednesday afternoon, safely ensconced in the Labour Ward at the Cape Labia General Hospital, living in this electronically interconnected world.

And my second patient is a native Canadian, a member of the Miq-Maq Nation-that’s pronounced “Mick – Mack” and isn’t to be confused with an Irish raincoat.

And so, I walk into the room to introduce myself, and the first thing this 'First-nations-peoples person' says to me is...

So...what part of Australia do you come from?

You couldn’t make it up.

Why ZOOM went bust...or,maybe not...

I’m not sure that I really understood the concept of a ‘no-frills’ trans-Atlantic airline….I was happy to pay for the bulkhead/emergency door seat….a cool £25-00 extra for the seat….and of course £10-00 for the privilege of making a seat-selection prior to check-in

But...ok... I ’m a big hearted person (i.e.-fat) and happy to pay for the leg room…until of course, as soon as the seat-belt sign was switched off, the chief waitress (she didn’t like being called that either) moved 2 families with babies….actual screaming crying mewling stinky pooping babies to the adjacent seats.
Naturally I asked if they had paid but was told that the decision to move them to the front was for “operational reasons’……how interesting I thought, that the airline industry uses the same phrase that nursing does to politely tell troublemakers’ to buggar off and die……
The real surprise was when they came around with the pre-lunch drinks trolley-, well, I say lunch,-….for that matter, I say drinks …..- and the choice was tea or coffee or water….or coke for £2-00 for one of those rinky-dink tins…..so I had water….a cupful…because the bottles of water were £2-00 as well
Fortunately, as a card-carrying South African, I had had the foresight to liberate 6 x 500mls bottles of water from the Executive Lounge...(well,I say executive...some tired,sweating cheese sandwiches and abottle of wine that never saw a vineyard).... so I didn’t dehydrate too much

Lunch was interesting…while…I say lunch…it was like something you get in a pathology exam…sketch, identify and label for 100 marks or as much antacid as you can consume

Fortunately, I had also liberated several energy bars and those little packets of cheesy-bites from the lounge as well so didn’t go too hungry

I must say though that later that evening, sitting in the rain down by the harbor-(yes, I know its supposed to be the height of summer….)I was glad that I still had an appetite…its lobster season here and so I forced myself,-twice-,to have the famous lobster club sandwich with home fries…that’s basically scampi and chips with tomato mayo for the readers from Portsmouth…truly lovely…..*sigh*

The journey down to Armpit,NS from Halifax was long and tiring, in the Canadian equivalent of a minibus taxi….I think I left my arse somewhere about 100miles away….the Mounties are out looking for it as we speak

I had booked in at the Past'its'Prime B&B….a small, boutique B&B for the older more discerning traveler….stop sniggering at the back there!!
By and large I like staying in small B&B’s when I am far away from home….there is always an illusion of caring about you….if you’re their only customer they will probably notice if you’ve died in your sleep…..the service is always a little better since they are the owners….and you get the local info…also I like the idea of helping support small business …just also like sticking it to the man

Anyway…….the taxi stopped at this beautiful rambling, wide-verandahed building overlooking a little lake…with a steep climb up a grassy knoll (geddit??) to the front door

I rang the bell with an air of weariness and the need for hot food and a cold shower…and a pleasant but vacant and cadaverous looking man welcomed me in and showed me to my room. His wife, the manager, was resting, and would-I was regally informed-, see me later

After 30minutes of searching I found the bed beneath 3 tons of assorted knick-knacks and dolls and crocheted flim-flammery

The shared bathroom-quelle horreur-was down the passage.

Oh lordy lordy.

I was told that the nearest place to get a meal-indeed the only place if I was walking-, was at the casino..about 10 minutes away…which in English meant a brisk 20min yomp .The food was good and hot and cheap and I arrived back duly fortified, where I joined the gentleman and his wife in the “Television room’.

She looked like the irriadiated love child of Kermit and Miss Piggy, perched glowering in her Victorian high backed chair,feverishly crocheting some new place setting
After a further15 minutes of moving various gee-gaws and memorabilia, I found a seat.

“Have you eaten ?”, asked the wife.
“Yes….at the casino”, I replied
“Oh that’s simply dreadful food “,she spat out, “simply dreadful!”
“Right.”
There was nowhere else open in downtown Armpit,NS, on a Sunday….indeed it bore a close resemblance to Bloemfontein on a wet Sunday in 1955….but without the charm and sophistication.
And since they advertised that the B&B was close to all amenities-which it wasn’t-,not really sure why she had a problem with the $10 steak meal.
I didn’t.
Unfortunately, since they couldn’t provide me with a room with an en-suite bathroom (that means a hand basin to wee in at the very least);or provide a phone in the room…or indeed a TV or tea-making facilities, I was forced to leave, and to seek sanctuary in the Bates Motel across the road.
But that’s another story for another day

The Canadian Chronicles

How strange life is...

I was at the gym on Friday morning last week trying to get slim and fit and tanned and good-looking all in one 2-hour session before my trip to 1955...
Or-as you know it-, Canada

And, there being little to watch whilst I was on the treadmill, (the gym at that time being full of the "unlovely-middle-aged-women-with-huge-backsides-all-dressed-in-dayglo-leotards"club)I ended up watching an old episode of “Friends”-the one in which Joey tells Rachel that he loves her...
I know, I know…how sad am I?

And then, lo and behold, sitting in the Bates Motel last night
-in downtown Armpit,Nova Scotia
-with a whole 7 channels of TV to choose from
-the only thing that looked reasonable was an episode of “Friends”
-and yes, it was exactly the same episode

Still at least it meant that I was spending the evening in about 1998 instead of 1955 where I have spent the past few days

And the hotel is naturally, unable to give me a TV guide-which is not surprising seeing that most of the channels seem to be illegally down-linked from the USA...so far I have seen channels out of Buffalo, Atlanta and Chicago…oh lordy lordy….if only I had access to THOSE fast foods

The one saving grace thus far, has been that there is a Casino in town-opened since I was here last year….and so you can eat like you’ve just got the welfare cheque, for next to nothing.
In fact, by signing up twice for the Most Valuable Player card-easy to do with my accent and range of illegal drivers licenses-I have scored 2 free meals and endless cups of coffee

Talking of food-I am feeling a bit like a size 00 model…. I’m the thinnest person in Armpit , NS,….I’ll probably even get a date!!

So there has been a whole thing going on about my TB status….cos…you know….coming from third world England, where TB and lassa fever and ebola are all rife and we are all infected with the pox….well they wanted to be sure that I was “clean”

“Pervert”, they don’t mind-as long as you are free of TB

So I had the Mantoux test done a few weeks ago and it was read at being 11 mm of induration; a ‘technical’ terms meaning they can feel the bumps on your arm...
Now the Centers for Disease Control take the range as being from 5 to 15 mm ; the London School of tropical Medicine has the same score; as does the NHS, the EEC and even Souf Efricka.

But here it has to be between 5 and 10-and so I had to have a chest x-ray (CXR) which after much argument they decided I could have here in Armpit ,NS before I started work.

Now of course, if YOU, dear reader were in charge of Public Health, would you allow someone you thought had TB to catch a commercial plane and stay in 2 different hotels and use a long distance bus. Well….of course you wouldn’t…..but the public health here clearly hasn’t read the same textbook….of course, the fact that I have to pay $170 for the CXR probably also has something to do with it...

And so yesterday I presented myself to Occupational health for the CXR and spent 2 hours being shunted around trying to actually have the CXR taken

I was told to pay for it first-but the finance office would not take any payment because they didn’t have an invoice; the X-ray department wouldn’t register me as I had not paid; and so a nice little catch-22 circle of hell was set up whilst various low-level functionaries tried to get me on the system…..it was eventually done….when I had been rude to sufficient number of people
(why do I always have to end up being rude to get anything done?)...(why does it always work)...so that was yesterday….at about 1030….I phoned this morning at 1030…..and it still hasn’t been reported on….*sigh*

Mind you, I also went to have my ID card made and was told that the computer, “she was broken since Thursday” but that they could give me a paper card….think about it…..me, wandering around an obstetric and gynae ward with a paper badge pinned to my scrubs!!!

And of course, the guy didn’t really have a Zulu accent….he wasn’t smart enough!!