For those of stout heart who’ve been following my ongoing problems, with members of the medical profession, it is with heavy heart that I must advise you that tomorrow, Wednesday the 12th July, I have another appointment with destiny. Actually. God aka Doc Sandroussi.
You may recall in my previous conspiracy post how I’d been summoned, cajoled, threatened, intimidated, whichever applies; to appear before God at his rooms. I duly attended, and was greeted in the usual way, a warm smile, a hand to shake, and a bomb to avoid.
“You’re still very anemic”; no beating about the bush with this bloke; “and you have to have a colonoscopy”. “Not much point in that” says me, “If I’ve got cancer it can just take it’s course, no way am I going to walk around with a bagful of waste!” or words to that effect.
“No worries” says God, “if you have got cancer, and I cut it out you wont wear a bag!”, being who he is, that might well be the case, ” anyway you mightn’t have it, but I want to be sure!”. Hard to argue with this bloke, I tell you.
Next thing, off he goes on his computer, “Right” says he, “I’ve booked you in for Wednesday the 12th July at 12 noon”. Scribbled away on some forms, handed them to me and said, “fill these in, and take them to the TPU, no later than tomorrow!”. They were the papers for admission to the RPA; normally for a colonoscopy, one goes through the proper channels, and it is a two/three month wait.
On taking them in the next morning, I happened to say to the ladies on the desk that God “was a bit of a bossy sort of bloke”, and one of them replied ” You can say that again!” So I did; and she looked at me rather oddly.
He also gave me a great list of things I had/have to do today, the eve of the procedure; the worse of which is fasting, followed by swallowing a vile concoction designed to make you suffer gross indignities. Twice!
Trouble with this concoction, I’m supposed to drink it in 375 ml of warm water, (375 ml is the size of a can of ‘Coke‘), followed by another 375 ml of water. I have a problem here. I have nowhere to pour the stuff in such quantities. Not only that, I am supposed to repeat this after 2 hours, and again 2 hours later.
Over a period of 4 hours, I’m supposed to drink over 2 litres of stuff and water. I’m hard pressed to get 1·25 litres down over a 24 hour period. Of course I needed to advise the Good Doctors staff, of my problem.
Needless to say, the phone lines ran hot for a while, senior members of his staff rang me a few, times with various options, put forward by you know who, one of which was to fast for 3 full days prior to Wednesday, with a self inflicted enema each morning. I said “thank you very much but no thanks!”.
The final instruction came through, “It doesn’t matter which option but take one!”
Still more phone calls, the TPU rang to say that I had to ring them, between 3 pm & 7 pm, on the Tuesday, that’s today, and get my final instructions. I have just made that phone call and been advised that I am now to report in a 7 am tomorrow, not noon, as I’m now going to be the number 2 to be worked on and to keep pouring the stuff (PicoPrep, for those who want to read up on the stuff,- ej likes stuff he writes plenty of stuff) down my throat!
Last Friday week, the War office took a phone call. It was from the RPA Pre-Admission Centre to let me know that I would have to go in on the following Friday, that’s last Friday, to go through the rigmarole for admittance tomorrow.
About ten minutes later, the bloke that rang was back on the blower, to say that Doctor Sandroussi had been in contact with him, and told him that it would not be necessary for me to go to Pre-Ad. So I was off the hook. God had spoken.
In fifteen hours time, I shall be arriving at the PRA, fully expecting the “Purple Carpet” to be laid, the staff lined up, and the RAN Band, striking up “Hearts of Oak” to greet me after all the attention that I’ve received, compliments of Dr Sandroussi, I expect nothing less.