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.