[Don’t read this if you are eating or have a weak stomach]
Santorum got shafted by Bob Casey Jr during the last night’s American renaissance. This makes me feel a lot better about our impending move. To counter this nice feeling, and staying on the subject of Santorum, I had another visit to the hospital today. This time it was an investigation into a recent eruption of piles – well pile singular in fact but who cares – so as you can imagine I was thrilled to bits at the prospect.
Over the past few years I’ve had to get my pants off for more doctors and nurses than is healthy outside of a “Confessions” film plot; but even so, piles examinations are a little too intimate and embarrassing for me to cope with as quotidian. Fortunately the name of the doc on my chitty was “Mr E Larch” and so I felt slightly less awkward in the build up to the treatment.
However, maybe it’s the water in Lewisham but it would seem that the arse section of Lewisham Hospital is snowed under with patients these days and so instead of “Mr E Larch” I was dealt with by some young female doctor who looked not a day over 19.
The whole experience was too horrific for even me to document but if you want a vague insight into the scene, imagine lying on your side, facing the wall, and having a young woman, an older male and another student sticking fingers and objects of various lengths up your arse so high that it feels like they’re going to choke you.
I left my dignity at the hospital gates and instead walked out with two future appointments, hideous flashbacks, and an enema kit.
Choose Lewisham? My arse…
