So, anyway, this happened today …

th-4‘Mrs Becca Joyce?’ (For want of a real name).

‘Yes. Here.’ I was amazed that I was being called from the hospital Outpatients waiting room so quickly, before my appointment time in fact.

‘My name is Chun (For want of a false name). I am a registrar here at the hospital and I will be conducting your post-operative check-up.’ He indicated for me to sit in a hard chair by the wall, and I was grateful that he hadn’t indicated that I lie on the bed between us. He hurriedly read through my notes.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a look at your nose. He approached me holding a pair of nostril-shaped steel tweezers, and stuck them up my nostril. I closed my eyes and leant my head back submissively. He had a good, long look.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful,’ he said.

‘Is it?’ I said.

‘Oh yes. I think so.’ He withdrew, only to stick them up the other nostril.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful,’ he said.

He pulled away and sat down at a desk, made some illegible notes. ‘How does it feel? Any problems.’

‘No, no problems, except lots of pain and congestion. Pretty clear now. Occasionally sore. But I’m certainly breathing better.’

‘Very good. And your throat?’

‘I do feel like there’s something at the back, making me feel I want to …’ I made a gagging face. ‘Like it’s …’  I stuck out my tongue and made choking noises.

‘Hmmm…’ He approached me with a wooden spatula. ‘Open your mouth.’ He pushed down my tongue and peered in with a little torch. ‘Oh, that’s beautiful.’ He tilted my head higher. ‘Oh, that’s really beautiful.’

I thought: he’s taking the piss now. I said: ‘Oh, is it?

Then he reached behind him and pulled out a suitcase. In it was a long thin black lead attached to some sort of small machine. ‘We’ll just take a look a little further down.’ He squirted a spray up each nostril. I had no idea what was coming. It transpired that the lead was a little camera, and he was going to shove it up my nose and down into my throat. Oh. My. God.

I shut my eyes and stuck out my tongue as instructed. It was the strangest, most disgusting sensation I’ve ever had the misfortune to know. All the time he was saying ‘Oh, that’s beautiful. That’s beautiful.’th-5

Then, just as the camera had reached the back of my throat via my left nostril, his cell phone went off. It played the tune of Ravel’s Bolero. He told me to say ‘Ahh’ and withdrew. All I could think about was Torvell and Dean, the Olympic Gold ice-skaters, and then ‘that’ hilarious scene in Ten with Dudley Moore and Bo Derek. After he finished his call, which was of a professional nature thankfully, he asked the most amazing  question: ‘And who wrote that piece of music, Ma’am?’

‘What?’

‘My phone’s ring tone.’

‘That was Ravel’s Bolero.’

‘Very good. And do you know the inspiration for the music?’

‘A bull fight, isn’t it?’

‘No. Wrong. Incorrect.’

I thought: I’m right, you little upstart. I said: ‘Oh, isn’t it?’

‘He was listening to the sounds of a factory and got inspired with the repetitive beat of it.’

‘But didn’t he imagine the factory workers acting out a bull fight?’

He was quiet for a moment. ‘No,’ he said. I thought: Yes, he did. He continued: ‘Okay. You are doing very well, so I’m going to go and get the surgeon and find out if we need to see you again.’

I waited for a while. Then my surgeon (my very sexy older guy surgeon) came in, followed by several trainee registrars, and did the whole examination all over again. Mercifully, minus The Bolero.

(PS. I asked about my Uvula. He said sorry that I’d got a shock when I found that it was missing, but all it does is create ‘snore’. Now my throat is ‘beautiful’!!!).

 

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