I went to the doctor's on Thursday with the soon-to-be-two year old and the doctor said, "Hello, how are you". "I'm fine," I said, "just thought I'd pop in, queue in the waiting room for almost an hour and then see how you're doing, doc." I mean really, I know it's polite to ask but you're not going to visit the stethescoped one for fun, now are you?
Anyway, the two year old was sporting a mild rash and you know you always have to get those things checked out because, well, if you're a nipper you can die, and die very quickly as it happens.
Now, it has long been a belief of mine that your GP has much in common with your car mechanic. You go in, say "I've got a bit of a knocking noise down there. It feels a bit stiff" and they sit and frown and then get down and fiddle with a couple of spanners or a thermometer and give you the benefit of their knowledge (oh yes, and a bill too). You get home and later discover that actually it was the left ventricle which was playing up, not the wishbone.
"Well," said the doctor, "I've never seen anything like this before."
Hmm, that always fills me with confidence.
"Looks to me like it's a virus," he said.
I love that. Whenever a doctor doesn't know what something is he says it's a virus. Interestingly, I had never heard this before I came to these shores 10 years ago. Either Australia is the virus incubator of the western world or it's just a dodgy answer. Anyhow, the doctor's opinion cost me $55 and went like this: "I wouldn't do anything at all. I'm sure it will all get better within a couple of days."
My oh my, this is a good way to earn money.
Right. Fast-forward to yesterday. Two is now a pulsating mass of rash and cannot sleep or sit down or do anything much at all (though strangely it has not affected his appetite which still sees him polish off four Weetbix, two rounds of toast and a banana for breakfast). Back to the doctors but this being Saturday it's even worse because there're no appointments, you just have to queue with the other sick people. Let's face it, if you haven't got an illness when you get in the crowded waiting room you almost certainly will have by the time you come out.
So, a different doctor, much the same diagnosis and an "I'm sure it will be better in a couple of days" prognosis.
"Bu three days ago I was told, quite confidently I should tell you, by your colleague that in a couple of days it would be better," I said, "not worse."
He smiled at me indulgently and said, "Ah yes, but medicine is not an exact science you know."
Indeed.
You need one of Lindow's friend Hazel's unguents or elixirs!
22/07/07 @ 08:10