Rock & Roll and Rectal Probes
Yeah, it's been a 'fun' few weeks...
Doctor Doctor!
‘Gimme the news…’
Last month I went for a check-up. It had been a while.
Apparently, it had been five (possibly six) years.
The nice Doctor said, “Guess we’ll line you up for all the tests then.”
Fabulous.
First, I trotted off to give blood. The new owners of the Blood Giving Place had decided, ‘For Your Convenience’ to fire all the admin staff and get the nurses to do their jobs. Which, I eventually found out, was why the line to get tested was snaking through the carpark and around the corner.
Sure, it’s now a minimum two hour wait for prospective patients (those who weren’t turned away at 10am because they close at 12pm on Saturdays) but look at all the $$ the company is saving!
Good for them.
Now, if they can only modify their office to something like this in a vacant park, they’ll also save a fortune on rent, electricity and maintenance:
The next room in the House of Medical Fun was the Prostate and Bladder Scanning Place because: I’ve reached an age.
Extremely delighted to discover that the prostate check no longer involves someone snapping on a latex glove before getting me to bend over, I tossed my brand-new, Private Health Insurance (PHI)card onto the receptionist’s desk, winked and said, “Top tier medical insurance mate. Feel free to hammer it!”
The nice lady smiled, pushed the card back toward me and said, “This service isn’t covered by any medical insurance, you have to pay the full fee.”
I’d barely had time to Google exactly what my medical insurance actually does pay for when I was called into the room.
The nice people got me to drink a lot of water, then sit with my legs crossed until a medical student ran a probe over my bursting bladder in order to check my, well, bladder and prostate.
Then she let me hobble off for a wee before rechecking everything. This time I wasn’t desperately freaking out about peeing myself on her bed.
A few days later, like a character descending to the next level of Hell in Dante’s Inferno, I fronted at the office of our village’s colonoscopy expert, i.e.: the one with an actual medical degree and lots of little letters after his name, not the dodgy bastard hanging out behind the toilets at the park with his cute dog.
“How long since your last colonoscopy Greg?” he asked (the Dr. that is, not the dodgy bastard… or the cute dog.)
“Um, five years?”
“According to our records it was thirteen years ago.”
“Ah, yep, sounds about right,” I replied, while wondering, ‘Why did you bother asking me if you already knew? Is this a dementia test as well?’
He booked me in for the full backside re-bore and flush out. But not at a hospital in Gladstone. Nosirree, we have to drive to Rockhampton now to be poked and probed.
Add it to the list of services we used to have in this burg and now can’t get back (ditto for music shops, book shops, cheap, direct flights to capital cities that don’t cost more than a new home deposit, etc. etc.)
They gave me a figure for the out-of-pocket expenses (which loosened my bowels immediately), which had to be paid before anyone inserted a garden hose into my trouser trumpet.
“But, but, but, I have top level medical insurance?!” I feebly cried waving my PHI card.
The gratuitous use of the word ‘but’ shot over their heads like a teflon coated poo, because nobody smiled until my credit card had been thoroughly, and expertly, reamed; before I was.
Anyway, before the fun began, we sat in the waiting room for several hours where Nell and I were shocked (and appalled) by the number of people around us (including the staff!) who were cheerfully sneezing, coughing or complaining about feeling hot then cold. None of them were wearing masks or making an effort to cover their facial explosions.
So, what valuable lessons has the drooling public learned about infection control after the COVID fiasco?
Anyhoo…
After having my back paddock surveyed, I limped off to book a session with the ocular specialist to check the progress of the cataract in my right eye:
I was informed I would need surgery to repair it. Surgery which will have to take place in Rockhampton, or Bundaberg… sigh.
So, next month I’ll drive to Bundaberg for the initial consultation, plus a chat with the anaesthetist, before going back to Bundaberg in September for the surgery.
I was told the chat to re-re-confirm I’m half blind will set me back half a grand, before they even let me into the office. “But, but, but,” I stammered to the receptionist over the phone, “I’ve got private health insu… ah, forget it.”
So, to wrap up, here’s a few of the key takeaways from the past few weeks:
No wonder it’s been so long between medical visits (and I’m now on a mission to break my previous record. Five years... pfft! Hold my beer.)
My private, top tier, medical insurance is worth:
but if you haven’t got it, you’re either going to wait years for tests, then longer for treatment (which, I guess, is one way for ‘the guvmint’ to thin out the herd) and,
Apparently, not taking a pile of pills, each day is an astonishing accomplishment for someone my age judging from the reactions of all the medical folk I’ve recently met.
Still, I am actually quite grateful.
Honestly, lots of folk would be thrilled to be in my position, i.e.: alive and potentially staying that way for some time.
Oh, and healthy.
Well, healthy-ish.
Plus, happily, I can still pee, see, and crap without needing assistance, which is quite nice, and something I’m keen to keep doing.
So, now it’s time to have a little chuckle:
Music Man
Folks, last week I cracked and bought access to a backing track app.
(You know the game by now, click on the link: JAMZONE )
‘So what?!’ I hear you ask.
Well, it’s kind of a big deal for me, because I’m not like everybody else. Technology and I are barely on talking terms, so, it’s extremely rare for me to find an app that:
a) works at all.
b) works for me.
b) works the way it’s advertised.
So, when I found this one, (!!) and it worked (!!!), AND I didn’t have to consult the online manual thirty-eight times just to get it to make a noise (!!!!!), I was very bloody HAPPY!
So, for the past week, I’ve been downloading songs like it was 1999 Napster, tweaking them, and practicing along with them. It’s been like having a band in my loungeroom! On my TV! Through the amps! On my portable Bluetooth speaker! In the shower!
Everywhere!
And, when we do a live gig, I won’t have to try and play three different types of guitar styles for each song. Instead, I can let the iPad do all the heavy lifting (once Nell’s done all the actual heavy lifting and connected everything up to the mixer, amplifiers, mics and guitars… I usually get the drinks in, and not offer suggestions, while she’s ‘focussing’), then have fun!
Real muso’s are probably rolling their eyes, but… I don’t care.
Watch this space!
Quote of the Week
This week I was asked, “Why can’t we speak ill of the dead? What about Hitler?”
Well, I don’t usually speak ill of the dead, unless they’ve really earned it; like Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin, Cortez and his Merry Men, Maggie, etc.
If they were a complete dropkick of a human being while alive then then I’m not technically speaking ill of them, I’m simply indulging in some historical commentary.
Actually, I’ll leave it up to Bette:
Happy Snaps!
Winter in Gladdy ‘toon Pt 2:
The ex-HMAS Gladstone in Gladstone:
The rope boat ‘Candela’ returns to the marina after helping to lash another ship to the wharf:
It’s neat how they designed a park with a ‘rolling waves’ theme (and how it’s taken me years to notice it… ):
A raucous visitor and his mates popped by this week:
Change in the weather:
Dampness ensued:
This stone landed on my bonnet… from somewhere, somehow:
A shrubbery:
Stolen from Substack
Exmouth Harbour (clearly needs dredging):
Got an artistic creative streak, some chalk and a stack of time?
I wish I had a robot to help me select one:
And it came in different colours, and tasted great when you chewed the ends:
Ha! I wish:
My sentimonies perzackly:
Subtle differences:
Everyone says so:
Hey! Thanks for joining us again. And, Welcome, Welcome, Welcome! to our latest subscribers! Enjoy the ride and feel free to help yourself to something from the bottom three shelves ;)
Cheers,
Gb
