Back on the ‘merrygoround’, again. 
🙄
I know I said there’d be no more, in the long running saga, in my dealings with the RPAH, however, there are those amongst you who are either masochists, and downright gluttons for punishment, or have nothing better to do and have asked to be kept up to date.
Then again, it may be for a somewhat more sinister motive! 👿
At 13.40 hours yesterday I entered Professor Kilian’s rooms in Carillion Avenue, in plenty of time for my 14.00 scheduled appointment. Naturally I was called in, smack bang on time, greeted with a smile and warm handshake and down to business.
Seems that there is no doubt, that he will have to fix the faulty valve, sooner rather than later. He’ll probably give me a grease, and oil change, whilst he’s at it. He questioned me as to the results of Professor Sandroussi (to give him his correct title, even though he prefers being called by his first name or Doc) examinations. I told him that I had an appointment at 15.15 hours with the good doctor and would get the results then.
He reiterated, that there was no way that Doc S., could have his way with me, until after he’d finished with me, that’s if I change my mind and agree to the operations.
Still with me, ❓
Before leaving a new appointment and “Echo”, thingy was scheduled for 6 months, these Medical Professionals at the Royal Prince Alfred are nothing if not optimists.
After my session with Professor K., I took a leisurely stroll down Missenden Road, to Gods rooms in Briggs Street, braving a howling wind that almost bowled me over. Which wouldn’t take much to knock over my 63 kg.
I was in plenty of time for my appointment, half hour early, the delightful Arch Angel Irene told me that the doc was running a wee bit late, which I’d already gathered, by the number waiting in the room.
Okay, don’t worry, no more stories about those in waiting rooms!
Feeling pretty bored, I’d neglected to bring a book, I sent a text message to the War Office advising her that I was likely to be home a bit later than expected as God was running behind. I also mentioned that I should have driven up as both the “Disability” parking spots outside were vacant. never happened before.
Twenty minutes later the W.O. walked in and told me that she’d decided to take advantage of the spaces. I’m pleased to announce that she brought Coco with her instead of leaving him home alone, he get’s somewhat distressed, when we go out, and leave him behind!
It was just on 16.00 when I was summoned into his presence, actually I’d dozed off, which is what happens if I haven’t got a book.
Obviously he’d forgotten who he was talking to when he opened up with “we found a lesion in the bowel”, I said ” you mean cancer?” and he said yes. Why do they do this? Call it what it is.
He told me that it was ‘confined’, and hadn’t spread, and that it would be easy to whip it out. Not exactly his words, but you get the idea. So I said “and you’re planning to whip it out!”, he said “No, a mate would, a good bloke who actually specializes in bowel cancer” I asked “is he any good?”, and he told me ” He’s smarter that I am”, I said “impossible”.
I triumphantly advised him that it really doesn’t matter, as they couldn’t start chopping away, until Prof. Killian had had his way!
Not to be outdone he started hammering away on his computer, and dictating letters, straight onto the machine which were instantly printed. He told me that he had a spare of the microphone type thing that he used in the dictation, and I could have it if I wanted, and all I needed then, was the program, and I’d never have to type again, just talk. Trouble is I either talk too loudly or mumble.
I thanked him, and declined the offer, as graciously as one does to god.
He then tells me, that he’s made the appointment for me to see his mate next week, and also for me to have something called a PET Scan; and that Irene would give me all the details.
Do you get the idea that
LordBeariOfBow 
You should definitively go ahead with whatever they recommend if for no other reason than to keep them employed.
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You mean let them practice on me;
There’s no shortage of employment 🙂
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Practice, employment . . . the details are unimportant.
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Listen to the disperser, cynic that he/she is!
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You forgot “it” 😈
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Brian,
better that they practise on you at Royal Prince Alfred, than down at the “Gong”. A poem for you and your surgeons:
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2014
A Surgeons Promise
I walk with a limp now,
Two of them in fact,
When I used to glide,
The strut of youth,
Was on my side.
Pain’s now the game,
Moving more slowly
My worn knees are done.
The warranty you see,
has fully, finely expired.
Today they took MRI pictures
Of my knees, sized ’em up
For manufacturing,
A perfect, artificial fit.
Metal and plastic components to
replace my played out natural bone.
They assure me it will not hurt,
(Allegedly)
Surgery they declare will,
eliminate the pain and put
a spring back in my step.
I’ll settle for the absence of
Pain with every step I take.
But, I’m pretty damn sure,
I’ll never ever run again.
Even for we humans,
Built in obsolescence,
Is an unavoidable truth.
Man, getting old is really the shits!
Once we were gods,
thinking ourselves
bullet proof.
Played football,
jumped out of planes,
climbed, and skied mountains at will,
swam rivers and lakes, oceans blue,
rode motorcycles a hundred miles an hour.
Rode our selves hard and put our selves
up wet too many times, with no thought
given to consequence.
We were never indestructible,
we just thought we were.
Age puts everything into prospective.
Neill.
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I never did any of those things. How the hell do you think I’ve survived this long? 👿
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Sounds very Catch 22 to me. I’d say the docs need to decide who gets to be first in line, and you get to decide if there’s to be a line.
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I’ve got her indoors to contend with too!
Her main worry is who’s going to cook her food for her when I’m gone 😀
That’s keeping things in true perspective 😈
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May your relationship with God continue for a long time – it’s so much fun
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It really is. 😀
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Worth a shot. All you have to lose is lesioning the lesion.
Don’t forget to take Coco with you for the PET scan …
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I had trouble saying that out aloud 😥
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I never did hear him ask you if you wanted the appointment.
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God doesn’t he just does 😀
He naturally assumes that I will obey his instructions as I did in the first instance. They/he thought I was a very good patient, as I didn’t argue, and did exactly as I was told.
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Did he give the good boy a lollipop and pat you on the top of your head? Jeez.
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He stands 2 metres to my 1.67 thats 6’+ to 5’6″
who am I to argue
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lol
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Let’s hope they don’t get into an argument with you in the middle, ‘cos it sounds like there’s not much of you left to be torn to shreds. Whichever way they cut it (pun) good luck.
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At least somebody cares 😈
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What a quandary…don’t have a clue what I would do in your circumstances. I do agree, however, that you’re caught in the middle and will have to take back some control. Unless you’re happy providing them additional employment….
The WO bringing herself and Coco to be with you in the waiting room was sweet. No matter how you look at it.
Yes, I’m expecting a sequel to this about what you decide to do next, now that you’ve gotten all this outstanding not-God advice from us! 🙂
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They actually waited in the car, they don’t allow dogs in waiting rooms for reasons that escape me.
You must agree with Derrick it’s good fun! 😀 🐻
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Even with delightful Arch Angel and a pet outside, crowds and occupying waiting rooms is pretty dull way to spend time. Most cats, who can stare at bumps and smudges on wall for what seems like forever, yowl and claw their way out ASAP. But one cannot rush God who does sound amusing. (There’s multiple types of cancer – so maybe he was giving you credit and calling it the more specific term, lesion?) In any case get the darn mess handled – by the specialist who knows how big the margins need to be and cut enough.
In any case, between battle of the docs, you can say you’re just a real cut-up. (Or is that too antiquated a term for a joke these days?)
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I’d have thought I was a cut above the average;but don’t let onto the Disperser, I’d never hear the end of itQ 😀
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Brian,
medical folk are the only people who have “waiting rooms”, all other people keep appointments, so when you go to the doctor’s you have to expect to wait. I always make sure I have a pen and a copy of the “Sydney Morning Herald” with me and do the crossword, then move on to the other word and number puzzles.
Neill.
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True to a point, the RPA seems to be the exception to the rule; might do a small post on today to bear out that statement! 😀
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