“How are you with needles?”
It’s an odd question, and I’m a little disorientated.
“I’m not in love with them, but I won’t pass-out or anything” I reply to the woman I assume to be a doctor. She’s quite pretty, actually.
“I’m more concerned about you jerking your arm when I stick you and smacking me in the face.” She replies drily, making me like her even more.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
By the smell, I deduce that I’m in a hospital and not a doctor’s surgery. It’s a pretty recognisable smell. And by the noise I’m in A&E and not an in-patient ward. Yet.
“You’ll feel a scratch.” They always say that. What they mean is ‘you’ll feel a fucking nasty sharp thing going into your arm’.
After several attempts she finds a vein and takes some blood.
“So. You’ve had these seizures before?”
My boss sticks her head round the door – surprising me - and gives me my wallet and mobile phone. I thank her, still very unsure of what is happening, tell her I’m fine and that she should go back to work.
Quite Fit Doctor asks who she was.
Me: Oh. That was my boss.
QFD: She came in with you. With the paramedics. She’s lovely.
Me: Ok. How long have I been here?
QFD: A while. You seem to be coming out of it pretty quickly so we’ll do your bloods and if that’s all fine you can go.
My head is fuzzy and I try and remember any recent events, none of which involve paramedics or hospitals. I do, however, recall a pleasant conversation with a female colleague, to whom I was bemoaning some upcoming social plans which involved visiting the gay quarter of the city I work in, on the insistence of Uncannily Similar who enjoys ‘the vibe’.
Me: It’s just, you know, I … Get a lot of male attention. Which is all good, but…. I’d just rather NOT. It’s sort of awkward. You know?
To which she replied:
“Well of course you do! It's because you’re handsome and you’re really slim.”
Which was possibly the nicest thing anyone has said to me ever, and was of course completely insincere and really meant:
“Well of course you do! It's because YOU’RE THE GAYEST STRAIGHT MAN I’VE EVER MET YOU CAMP SKINNY FUCK!”
But I took it anyway.
Some time passes. A locum in scrubs sticks his head round the door.
Locum: Oh. Hi. Who’s your doctor?
Me: Ermm. Not sure of the name. Dark hair. Quite attractive.
Locum: Ok. [Starts to leave. Stops. Turns back with a puzzled/incredulous look] What? FEMALE?
Me: What? YES! FUCK!
Locum: Alriiiiiight. [Spreads his palms in supplication] I just thought you were... you know…
Me: Well I’m NOT. When am I getting my blood results? And where can I go for a cigarette?
I’m discharged an hour later.
“I’m not in love with them, but I won’t pass-out or anything” I reply to the woman I assume to be a doctor. She’s quite pretty, actually.
“I’m more concerned about you jerking your arm when I stick you and smacking me in the face.” She replies drily, making me like her even more.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
By the smell, I deduce that I’m in a hospital and not a doctor’s surgery. It’s a pretty recognisable smell. And by the noise I’m in A&E and not an in-patient ward. Yet.
“You’ll feel a scratch.” They always say that. What they mean is ‘you’ll feel a fucking nasty sharp thing going into your arm’.
After several attempts she finds a vein and takes some blood.
“So. You’ve had these seizures before?”
My boss sticks her head round the door – surprising me - and gives me my wallet and mobile phone. I thank her, still very unsure of what is happening, tell her I’m fine and that she should go back to work.
Quite Fit Doctor asks who she was.
Me: Oh. That was my boss.
QFD: She came in with you. With the paramedics. She’s lovely.
Me: Ok. How long have I been here?
QFD: A while. You seem to be coming out of it pretty quickly so we’ll do your bloods and if that’s all fine you can go.
My head is fuzzy and I try and remember any recent events, none of which involve paramedics or hospitals. I do, however, recall a pleasant conversation with a female colleague, to whom I was bemoaning some upcoming social plans which involved visiting the gay quarter of the city I work in, on the insistence of Uncannily Similar who enjoys ‘the vibe’.
Me: It’s just, you know, I … Get a lot of male attention. Which is all good, but…. I’d just rather NOT. It’s sort of awkward. You know?
To which she replied:
“Well of course you do! It's because you’re handsome and you’re really slim.”
Which was possibly the nicest thing anyone has said to me ever, and was of course completely insincere and really meant:
“Well of course you do! It's because YOU’RE THE GAYEST STRAIGHT MAN I’VE EVER MET YOU CAMP SKINNY FUCK!”
But I took it anyway.
Some time passes. A locum in scrubs sticks his head round the door.
Locum: Oh. Hi. Who’s your doctor?
Me: Ermm. Not sure of the name. Dark hair. Quite attractive.
Locum: Ok. [Starts to leave. Stops. Turns back with a puzzled/incredulous look] What? FEMALE?
Me: What? YES! FUCK!
Locum: Alriiiiiight. [Spreads his palms in supplication] I just thought you were... you know…
Me: Well I’m NOT. When am I getting my blood results? And where can I go for a cigarette?
I’m discharged an hour later.
posted by Tired Dad at
12:21 am
15 Comments:
Funny! Hope you're ok. Still smirking as I try to write that with sincerity.
The lengths some people will go ot in order to chat up a foxy medic.
Keep smoking.
Stop wearing Orangina as an aftershave.
Get the medic's name and phone number you epileptic prat.
I hope you are better soon and no repeat performances if possible.
BTW - an old work colleague who was often mistaken for being gay once told me it was an entire act from him - he had found at uni that being straight in a gay scene meant he was getting more female attention than ever... "They all consider me a challenge" he claimed.
Hey you - am hoping that your health issues get sorted out PRONTO.
And don't worry about people thinking you're gay - it's a great way to get girls, apparently.
Sending you a hug.
Ali x
Did you check your wallet to see if anything was missing?
F: Desired result so thanks.
loob: One track mind as ever.
TSB: Not sure what you're driving at with the first two, and I had things other than romance on my mind with regard your third suggestion.
Furtheron: Thanks. And, ah, yeah.
Ali: Indeed. And thanks.
Ellie: Fortunately my colleagues are surprisingly trustworthy types.
Hope you get everything sorted out soon (healthwise). And hope you know we accept you no matter what your preference...
I did wonder where you'd got to as well (#8!)... sorry life has been so trying. I've no brilliant advice, but hope life gets a tiny bit less exciting for at least a few weeks. Your boss sounds like a good person, so perhaps she'll advance you a bit of leave for the holidays? On the misunderstandings, well, clearly you are handsome and thin. And the hospital dude was just jealous.
Suze
Hope you are feeling better and not to worry...some of us (meaning me) are here, reading your stuff, just not saying anything. You are not alone at the crap festival.
I hope that doesn't sound as creepy to you as it does to me. :)
Em: Oh fucking hell...
Suze: I'm sure you are right.
Elaine: Doesn't sound creepy at all. And hello.
Oh dear, not again. Sorry to hear you have been unwell. Much hope for future non-instances-of-same.
Sew: Thanks. And we'll see...
Would it help if I blew some of my medicinal schmooak at you?
Ann
Anon.
Ann: I kind of doubt it.
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