Being a few stone overweight, and not having the healthiest lifestyle in the world, I was worried when I started to develop the symptoms of diabetes. It had probably gone on for years if I’m honest, so the other day I plucked up the courage to go and have a diabetes check. I went for one of those one’s in the chemist. This was a lot easier than trying to see a doctor at my local surgery, as they have an absolutely mind bogglingly difficult appointment making system. I tried once before, and in the end gave up, and decided I would put up with the shooting pains down my left arm, tightening chest, and sweating!
The conversation went something like this………
Receptionist "Good morning, doctors surgery" (slight frostiness already)
Me "Ah, good morning, I would like to make an appointment please"
Receptionist "When would you like it for?"
Me "A week Wednesday would be great" (this was Monday)
Receptionist "No can do I’m afraid"
There was then a gap as I waited for her to explain why…………..The explanation didn’t materialize
Me "Er…..why is that"?
Receptionist "Appointments can’t be made more than a week in advance"
Me "So what do I do then"?
Hitler "You will have to phone back on the day that is a week earlier than the appointment you want to make"
It's a good job the Nazi's only used the 'Enigma' machine to encode their messages. If they had had the forsight to use 'Receptionist speak', the chaps at Bletchley Park wouldn't have stood a chance, and we might all be now dancing to a different tune!
Me "So that will be Wednesday then"? (An air of sarcasm tinged with desperation in my voice)
Hitler "That’s correct"
Me "Any particular time I should phone, does it need to be the exact time that I would like the appointment for, just a week early"?
Hitler "It doesn’t make any difference"
Me "So any time will be ok then"?
Hitler " No, I mean it doesn’t matter what time you call on Wednesday, because we won't be here, closed on Wednesdays"
Me – Slam phone down, and add her, and the whole surgery to ‘THE LIST’!
So anyway, off me and Miss Marple toddle down to the town last Saturday morning. We get into the chemist, and there was one person in front of me in the queue. This was a good enough reason for me to try and back out of the whole thing. I turned round and told Miss Marple that they were obviously very busy, and perhaps we should try another day. She then quite literally spun me round 180 degrees, and pushed me towards the counter. I asked for the diabetes test, and was told to wait over by a door at the back of the shop. I was informed that somebody would be over shortly to do the test. I waited, and after a few mins, a young assistant came over, and ushered me into the room. She must have been about seventeen, and seemed as nervous as I was. I was hoping this wasn’t her first test, because I knew blood had to be taken, and I didn’t want to be the victim of hypodermic homicide!, accidental or otherwise. Luckily the blood was taken with one of those pricker things. She said it wouldn’t really hurt; she obviously has never had the test. Once the blood had been taken, she proceeded to work her way through a list of questions. She started by asking me if I had eaten that morning, I said yes. She asked me what I had eaten, Bacon and eggs I said. She giggled to herself, I don’t really know why, and then the real grilling began.
Assistant "Greater thirst than normal"?
Me "Yes"
Assistant "More tired than usual"?
Me "Yes"
Assistant "Dizziness"?
Me "Sometimes"
Her "Double vision"?
Me "No"
Her "Weight loss"?
I looked down at my stomach, which seemed to be more lardy than normal, and meekly said "no".
Assistant "Irritability"?
I glanced over at Miss Marple who stood with her arms folded, and she raised one eye brow in a Roger Moore sort of fashion. I took this to mean a big fat YES!
"I suppose so" I said.
Then there seemed to be a pause in the interrogation. The young girl looked as though she was reading the last question to herself again; to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. She quickly glanced up at me, and then back down to the piece of paper in front of her. In a quieter voice than before, and leaning forward slightly, she asked ………" Do you suffer from itchy genitals"?
Yes apparently itchy genitals are one of the symptoms of diabetes! Christ knows why. I’m not so sure it isn’t some kind of doctor’s prank. At this point, I was imagining two doctors being given the task of listing the symptoms of diabetes, so people can make an assessment for themselves. It’s a Friday afternoon, they can’t really be arsed. They would rather be pushing the boundaries of medical science. Fighting the battle against cancer, or making a breakthrough in the battle to cure Parkinson’s, but no, they have got the tedious task of listing the symptoms of dia-bloody-betes. So there they are writing the list. When they get to the end, one of them makes a suggestion……..
Dr A "God this is boring, I mean, we are worth more than this. All those years at medical school, and I’m making a list of symptoms for diabetes"
Dr B "Yeah, I know what you mean, it’s just not right is it"?
Dr A "We could spice things up a bit"
Dr B "How do ya mean"
Dr A "Well, we could add an extra one at the end, you know……..just for fun"
Dr B "Like what"?
Dr A "Erm…..we could make it a bit out of the ordinary, a bit silly maybe"
Dr B "What you mean like a jokey one, we wouldn’t get away with that, would we"?
Dr A "Well they fell for the passive smoking one, hook line and sinker"!
Dr B Laughing "Yeah, back of the net" They do a high five.
Dr A "It’s got to be something to do with the old genitalia , that gets ‘em every time"
Dr B Sniggers "Yeah"
Dr A "How about this. Let’s say that, diabetes makes your genitals itch"!
Dr B "Oh my God………..come on, they will never fall for that"…………………
At that moment, I snapped back into reality, and realized I needed to give an answer.
I looked across at Miss Marple, who by now had raised the other eyebrow, and had topped it off with a slight smirk. I looked back at the girl, and with as much dignity and decorum as I could muster, replied in a crackly voice….."YES"
The girl looked straight back down to the piece of paper, and ticked the appropriate box.
With that, she took the blood sample and the questionnaire, and went into another room in which there was some doctor looking bloke. After about thirty seconds, she came back into the room. I braced myself for the news that I was a Diabetic, probably on the edge of death. Defying medical science maybe." How has he survived this long, without treatment", I could imagine the doctor bloke thinking to himself. She sat down. "I am happy to tell you, that you don’t have diabetes"………Well I was destroyed. Shattered, I must have, I thought to myself, I’ve got the itchy balls and everything! Then it suddenly dawned on me. Not only had I been apparently imagining the symptoms of diabetes for years, but now this young girl, who no doubt, had many friends, and who with my luck was the town gossip, knew that I had an itchy cock for no good reason!!!.
I have walked through the town on a few occasions since that day, and have taken to wearing sunglasses a lot. The whispering and pointing is probably in my imagination, but just once, I’m sure I heard some kid shout out……"Look, there goes old scratchy balls"……….
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