The one about the trip to the doctors … (again)

Given my previous experiences in blogging about doctors in this country, I really should have learned my lesson by now and stopped when I had the thought ‘Hey, this could be a super funny post!’  (For those being introduced to my stories, I suggest you read how I managed to get invited to a medical symposium after comparing a research doctor to Gollum, and my incredible ability to swear at ultrasound technicians and fall in love with my gynaecologist , or even my feelings on paracetamol, the Dutch wonder drug)

However, it’s me. A story has to come out or I’ll explode. And given the reason I went to the doctor is because I can’t talk.  Seriously, I bet all of you are sitting there right now going ‘Damn, we’re missing the silence.’  I hate you all ;).

I’ve had this really nasty cough and cold for around 4 weeks now, and it also means that I have lost my voice.  Given that I’ve been to the doctor twice before  and given the same line about ‘rest and paracetamol’, and that my sarcasm is lost in a whisper when I ask how on earth I’m expected to rest with toddlers – I figured I’d just keep going back and annoying the crap out of them until I got some sort of drugs or answer.

Friday I went to the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment (of course, I can’t call, I forgot my online login, so dammit, the only way I can make an appointment is to drag my wheezy arse down to the surgery and make it in person). My regular doctor is booked up, so I take the first available appointment with a new doctor … let’s call him Dr Hottie Jnr.

At first I didn’t know he was attractive. I didn’t even know it was a man! So I rocked up to my appointment, small squawky entourage in tow, wearing clothing that could have been clean and a comfy old bra underneath (underwires kill when you’re coughing).  I waited patiently in the surgery, and to my surprise, this rather attractive young man called my name.  I shook his hand and went slightly weak at the knees, not to mention slightly giggly. A good looking doctor?  Yes please!  Nothing can ruin my day .. oh, wait. Crap.

Instantaneously, I thought of the dodgy old bra I put on that morning.  Seriously, this thing is comfortable, but it’s so not attractive. It has holes.

I went through the usual routine with the doctor of what’s been done, what hasn’t been done, and all whilst wondering simultaneously if he was single, how far I could run away with him, and still stressing about the damned bra.  He seemed enchanted with the girls (OMG, this guy *swoon*) and asked me into the cubicle to listen to my chest.  “Take off your shirt, please” And of course, the f***ing bra was there.  He listened (asked me to heavy breathe – not that that was hard 😉 ) and was quite empathetic as I told him that I can’t shake the cough.  In fact, I burst into tears because I was so grateful that this good looking, caring young man wanted to do something.

He told me to put my shirt on (boo, the bra must have been a turn off!) and we walked back to the desk, where he agreed that things had gone on long enough illness wise, prescribed me some drugs (YES!) and went to sign the prescription.  He’s lost his pen! (no, it wasn’t in my bra!)  Kindly, I offered him a loan of mine (stolen from a posh hotel. So classy). As I rummaged in my bag for it, thinking maybe I still might have a chance with this gorgeous doctor, he bent into the pram and started talking to Tilly who was being her usual charming self by chatting into her Peppa Pig phone and being adorable. “She’s very cute” he said.  I smiled, and thought “Yeah, he likes my kids … still a chance …”

At that point in time, Tilly chose to raise both her legs and fart.  Not just any fart, but an earth rumbling, herd of elephant trumpeting, toxic fume spilling fart.

As the poor guy regained his composure, stopped dry heaving and stood upright.  The nasty shade of green he turned was not longer attractive and he gasped for air.

I shook his hand and left quickly.  I guess I have no chance anymore 😉

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