Tag Archives: doctor

3478. A bitter pill

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If the doctor had been more careful I’d still be alive. He seemed to prescribe pills willy-nilly. It was as if he thought I’d had my chance. I’ve lived long enough. I’ll give you a pill or two to keep you happy, but hopefully you’ll shuffle off this mortal coil without too much ado, and soon.

Honestly if I was still alive I’d sue the bastard. He strutted about with a stethoscope round his neck. I had a good mind to tightened it and throttle the living daylights out of him. I could tell he was only pretending to care. All I’d gone to see him about was a pain in my little toe and he said it was this and that and prescribed a list of things from the pharmacy – none of which I could pronounced.

I’d barely had time to get home and take the pills before I hit the floor and got myself dead. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take those pills every day. There must’ve been over two hundred in those bottles.
 

3445. The whistling kettle

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It was a bit of a mystery visit. Gillian had been told by her doctor that she needed to see a heart specialist and the doctor had not been particularly forthcoming. She didn’t have much of a clue why, except she occasionally got chest pains that she thought was indigestion.

She came home from the heart specialist having learnt that she had chronic heart disease and had to take hordes of pills, but quite frankly, said the heart specialist, an emergency could happen at any time.

Louis her husband was thunderstruck when Gillian told him. He didn’t know what to do. He’d better get her a present of some sort or something. Gillian had often referred to her grandmother’s kettle. It whistled when heated. She had always wanted a whistling kettle like her grandmother’s but they already had a kettle and Louis thought there was no need to make that much noise in the early mornings. There was no need to splurge out on another expensive kettle. Yet Louis came home from work the next day with a whistling kettle and a bunch of flowers.

Louis liked to snuggle up in bed for as long as possible whereas Gillian was an early bird. The first morning Louis heard the kettle whistle briefly. “Ah!” he thought. “She’s using it for the first time!”

The second morning it whistled. And whistled and whistled. “Why doesn’t she turn the bloody thing off?” thought Louis. “Is she deaf or something?” In the end Louis had to get up to see why Gillian hadn’t turned the kettle off.

3441. An amputated story

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Charmain was devastated when the doctor told her she was to lose her right leg. The doctor was a realist. He had both feet on the ground. “You have two options,” said the doctor to Charmain. “Either you get your right leg chopped off or you die. The choice is yours.”

To Charmain, neither option appeared to be very appealing. “You’re not too old to get a prosthetic right leg and learn to walk with it,” said the doctor. “You’re only seventy-two.”

“The thought of it!” said Charmain. “Just the thought of it. Months and months of having to sit before I get a leg and then learning to use it. I’ll have to be looked after, and I like my independence. The second option of not doing anything about it and dying sounds more appealing the more I talk. I can’t stand people fussing over me.”

“Look,” said the doctor, “you’ll cope. Just like you did when we amputated all your other limbs.”

3390. A scalpel saga

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For some reason, and Leopold had never been able to work out why, Lewis detested Leopold with a vengeance. They had both been through university together; not as friends but simply taking the same lectures in medicine. Both had graduated and gone their separate ways to work in different hospitals. Lewis’s last encounter with Leopold had been acrimonious and apparently for no reason.

“If I ever encounter you in another life,” Lewis said, “I’ll slit your throat. In the future I hope I don’t recognize your ugly face.” Goodness gracious; Leopold was bamboozled.

Many years later Leopold developed a melanoma on his neck. He went to see a surgical doctor to have it cut out.

3286. She had the skills

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The Bible said “Physician heal thyself” but Olwyn’s method of recovery seemed a little strange. She had worked as a doctor all her working life. It was a ruse. She had never qualified as a doctor. In fact she had never even once in her life passed through the doors of a Medical School. All she had were forged papers of qualifications from Egypt and an enormous amount of bravado to even pretend to see patients.

Now, after almost thirty years, she had come down with an illness she couldn’t diagnose. She was getting ill-er and ill-er by the day and felt if she went to see a real doctor her subterfuge would be discovered.

It all began many years earlier when she went on a date and asked what he did and he said he was studying to be a nuclear physicist. Well, she couldn’t say she worked packing shelves at the grocery store so she said she was studying to be a doctor. The relationship came to naught, but she kept going with the deceit which had grown into a private practice. And now she was feeling decidedly ill and was stuck. She could prescribe medication for herself but she didn’t know what was wrong with her.

During her final days at a hospice, visitors marvelled at the reputation of Olwyn the nuclear physicist. Her apparent worldwide repute was awe inspiring. She had used her scientific prowess to make the lives of many, many suffering people so much easier.

At least she was good at something, but it was neither medicine nor science.

3071. Off to see the Ophthalmologist

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Yesterday I had an appointment to see the ophthalmologist (aka the eye doctor). The Eye Centre is about an hour’s drive away, but because traffic congestion on the road is unpredictable, I left home half an hour early.

The drive there was a breeze (no hold-ups) so I arrived for the appointment about thirty minutes early.

I went up to the counter and said to the receptionist “I’m miles early”.

She looked at her computer and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one booked in with that name.”

2639. Bananas

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Patient: Doctor I’m hungry. I’m finding it more and more difficult to find something to eat that I can keep down.

Doctor: The results of your blood tests have come in. That might tell us something. Yes, I see you are low in potassium. Do you like bananas? I have a banana left over from my lunch. Would you like it? Bananas are high in potassium.

Patient: That is very kind, thank you.

The patient takes a bite of the banana and drops dead.

Doctor: Nurse! Nurse! Come quick!

The nurse enters.

Nurse: Oh doctor, didn’t you know?

Doctor: What? What?

Nurse: These seven-armed, green-blooded aliens from outer space are allergic to bananas.

2476. Hospital emergency

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Doctor: Hold still. I’ve got some of it out with the tweezers.

Cynthia: Ouch, doctor. It hurts.

Doctor: There! That’s quite a big piece. Have you just been to a fancy dress party?

Cynthia: No. I am a real princess. Be more careful. Don’t forget that I’m a princess.

Doctor: You and your parents might think so, but in truth you’re a spoiled little brat. Now hold still. This would be a lot easier if there wasn’t blood all over the place.

Cynthia: But I am a real princess.

Doctor: Yeah right. Anyway, so how did you get all these shards of glass embedded in your right foot?

1989. Daughter memories

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It was a tragedy when Diana and Mansell’s seven-year-old daughter, Destiny, died. It had been a medical mistake. Destiny had gone in “for a little operation” and the surgeon had left a sponge inside her when he sewed up. Destiny died.

Diana and Mansell were, of course, heart-broken.

“We have to sue the doctor,” declared Mansell. “We have to sue the hospital. We have to sue the Health Board. We have to sue…”

“I think we should remember little Destiny and the happy times,” said Diana. “To sue would simply extend our grieving forever.”

”It’s not the money,” said Mansell. “It’s the principle. We don’t want this happening again.”

“I think we can rest assured that it won’t happen again, whether we sue or not,” said Diana. “I would prefer to remember Destiny the happy way she was.”

But Mansell went on and on. He wouldn’t let the topic drop. Whenever Destiny’s name was mentioned he went on about the irresponsibility of the doctors and the nurses and the hospitals.

It was impossible for Diana to ever share memories of their daughter with her husband without a diatribe. It lasted a lifetime.

1939. To die alphabetically

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Jerome Holke Barbarich-Askelund’s doctor had given him bad news. He had not been feeling well and was not at all surprised when the doctor announced (in a kindly and tender manner) that what Jerome Holke Barbarich-Askelund had was terminal.

“Oh well,” shrugged Jerome, “we all eventually get our marching orders I suppose.”

He went home and within a week had become obsessed with the death notices in the morning paper. Here was a list of those who had died – usually the day before. Jerome began to work out each morning where his name would go alphabetically if he had indeed passed away on the preceding day.

Amor
Austin
Baird
Burgin
Cain

If he had died his name would appear between Baird and Burgin.

Ackerley
Alexander
Batwell
Blayney
Blight

If he had died his name would appear between Alexander and Batwell.

And there, on the third day, BARBARICH-ASKELUND! There it was in print! In black and white! What a mystery!

Anderson
Atherfold
Aycock
BARBARICH-ASKELUND
Butt

“As far as I know,” said Mrs. Barbarich-Askelund, “we are the only ones in the country with this family name. It’s a complete bafflement. I’m in a state of stupefaction.”

After two weeks, Mrs. Barbarich-Askelund’s friend, Gloria Wiggins said, “Look Myrtle-Bianca, you have to admit that he’s been dead for two weeks now. You can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. “

“Oh Gloria!” sobbed Myrtle-Bianca Barbarich-Askelund, “to die is one thing. To appear in print between Aycock and Butt is shocking. Jerome will never forgive me.”