Monday, 23 March 2015

Could it be that I'm an alien?

I'm certainly not normal, that's for sure.
This morning's routine visit to the local Health Centre
is a perfect example of what I encounter almost daily.

 Having received a text message saying would I like
to come along for a once over to check out things
like weight, blood pressure, cholesterol etc in the
hope of nipping any future problems in the bud before
they manifest themselves, I thought - why not?
A girl can't be too careful about such matters after all.

Wonder if he's afraid of needles?
Washed, ironed and slightly out of breath as I was
running late, I duly presented myself for inspection.
After a somewhat surreal half an hour chatting to the original
"painted man" (never before have I witnessed or, indeed,
conversed with quite so much subcutaneous ink on one person)
I was finally ushered into the cubby hole masquerading
as a treatment room/general store.

No it's not me, I had a cowboy outfit.
The little lass who greeted me looked as if she might be
wearing her big sister's nurse's uniform and I momentarily
wondered whether I might have wandered into the play school
next door by mistake.  How are we today, she enquired.
We are good, I regally informed her - so let's begin.
The weigh in took several attempts as no two readings came
out the same.  It would appear that I have the ability to
gain and lose weight in a matter of moments.  The blood pressure
reading went no better and a second meter had to be found
to verify the results.
No wonder it was on the blink.  That elephant in the
room gets everywhere.
It took poor nursie a while to decide where my waist actually
was before she could measure it accurately as I appeared to go
straight down from rib cage to hip bones with no visible dip
in the middle.  She finally decided to steer a course by
following the line of an ancient scar which runs diagonally
across my abdomen from left to right.  Or, indeed, right to
left should you so prefer.

She was recourceful, I'll say that for her.
The cholesterol test was the piece de resistance during the performance
of which her computer went down taking with it everything she
had entered about me and the telephone system decided to come
out in sympathy.  The test itself had to be abandoned after the
third attempt and a change of batteries because she had never
encountered anything "so weird" before.  Besides which my poor
fingers were at that stage refusing to yield any more blood to test.
It was at this moment that I became convinced that I am an alien
being who mysteriously breaks machines, gives out a force-field
that plays havoc with computers and inflicts unsuspecting
individuals with temporary OCD as they take and re-take tests
in a persistent, anxious manner punctuated with frequent hand
washing and under-breath mutterings.

Aliens are everywhere.  Don't look into the eyes.
They're going to phone me later when they've decided what
to do next.  Oh goody!  Next patient please.


  1. It seems you just may be free from check ups for awhile!

  2. You are hilarious. However, I cannot help but wonder if there is a grain of truth in your experience. I am not saying you might be an alien - but aren't we all in some way or t'other. But perhaps the clinic machinery is a bit out of date. :-)