Bum. Poo. Willy. Don’t you just love a consultant who uses words like that. Obviously you love him a little bit more if it’s not your bum, poo or willy in question.
In March when we jollied off to Edinburgh we saw Arthur’s Seat, this morning before we left for Moffat the consultant and I saw Bernard’s seat!
I also managed to ruin the punch line to one of the consultant’s tales by telling my tale first.
When B was requested to drop his pants and he did so readily enough with me in the same room the question arose of who I could be. This prompted me to tell the tale of when we went for the echosonogram before my stem cell transplant and B accompanying me into the room after asking the nurse if it was okay. She said yes assuming B wasn’t my taxi driver as I might not want him there if that was the case. I said no, he was my neighbour which caused her a moment of hesitation.
The consultant said this ruined the punch line of his tale. He’d had a ‘couple’ in the exact same situation we were in – ‘husband’ on the bed minus certain garments and ‘wife’ in the chair I was sitting in. The Dr had started explaining things to the ‘husband’ who had said that it was no use telling him as he didn’t understand. Dr suggested that he would direct his comments to the ‘wife’.
‘Husband’: ‘She’s not my wife.’
Dr: ‘Oh, okay then, your partner.’
‘Husband’: ‘She’s not my partner.’
Dr: ‘Oh, okay.’ (Who the heck else could she be that you’d drop your trousers in front of her exposing your willy and then your bum.)
‘Wife’: ‘I’m the taxi driver.’
So, after going to our GPs, who are wonderful, on Monday morning, which fortunately is turn up with your complaints without an appointment morning (not that you can turn up without your complaints – ‘Whoops, I appear to have come without my myeloma. I must have left it in the cloaks cupboard when I put my coat on.’) B got to book at appointment with a colorectal/general surgeon. Doubly fortunately we have private health insurance so were able to get an appointment for today.
The Dr, I suppose that should really be Mr since this is the way most consultants are addressed, that’s always confused me as they work to become called doctor then work even more not to be! Anyhoo, Mr S thinks it is almost definitely piles, since B has no other symptoms and has for years gone to the toilet at least three to four times a day! However it is protocol to have further tests if the patient is over 35. It was ultimately up to B but Mr S said because of his own, and I quote, ‘anal’ nature, which insisted that he never be caught out he would certainly recommend a barium x-ray.
Due to our holidays and then Mr S’s holiday to walk the Inca Trail for Macmillan Cancer Support B can look forward to this event in early September. No, really, it only takes 10 minutes and he gets to eat rubbish for three days before, white bread, no fruit, nothing with fibre, the radiographer actually mentioned a potential MacDonald’s diet!
I think we have just about managed to exhaust every bum comment we could, so we are now off out for tea, I may have a rump steak! Well may be not every comment.