The Doctor will see you nowWhat do you mean you didn’t know I was a doctor?
What do you mean you didn’t know I spent seven years plus training? Do you mean all those times I was prescribing medication you weren’t paying attention?
Are you saying that every single time I swore the Hippocratic oath you didn’t listen? Every time I tore off someone’s leg and saved their life you didn’t notice?
Do you people even know anything about me?
Bad EarsMy hearing has been compromised for as long as I can remember.
We all know how questionable it is at times because if anyone is going to mishear something it’s going to be me. Matters took a turn for the worse a few weeks ago when the hearing in my right ear went a little bit six-wide.
As I was driving down to Leeds for Christmas I experienced what can only be described as “bad ear” when I could feel something wrong and part of my hearing just disappeared. I could still hear everything although it felt as though some kind of substance was blocking my ear canal. It was a big muffled as though I was doing that thing crappy singers do when they close their eyes and hold their ear to hear their pitch and reach the high notes only Mariah Carey and dogs can reach.
Over Christmas I gently started scooping out the contents and as disgusting as this is to write it’s another thing entirely when experiencing it first hand. Normally I’m quite adept as keeping on top of personal hygiene; during the month of December this must have taken a flight abroad and forgot to leave a note. Waves of wax came out in all shapes and colours. I cleaned my ear with a delicate hand and with no proper medical help until January when doctors returned from their Christmas-shaped holes (I was resolute that I was not going to A & E or calling III because of earwax) I put up with my folly.
There was a ringing too, a constant ringing that wouldn’t go away. Looking back now I think it may have been before all of this, meaning it may be two problems or one problem in two halves.
I did a grown up thing and called the doctors. “I’m sorry sir, we don’t syringe ears on the NHS anymore,” said the receptionist, “it’s not considered to be safe. You’ll have to try elsewhere.” Hmmmm, said a sarcastic voice in my head, you won’t help me but encourage me to look into it myself? Go private? Okay, sure, I’ve got this, leave it to me.
I went to Boots for a free hearing test where they told me both my ears needed to be sorted out. I made an appointment for less than a week later to use a futuristic sucking device to clear out the mess and afterwards it was like that fresh minty feeling you get after you have your teeth cleaned at the doctors… only in my ears.
“Do you want the bad news first?” said the Boots employee, shortly after vacuuming my inner sanctum. Apparently my ears are now free of wax because she can see my eardrums when looking in my ear. The bad news is that some of the wax went so balls deep into my ear that some of it is lying on my eardrum and it’s too dangerous to try and suck it out. The solution? Olive oil ear drops. I’ve been squirting this stuff now for about a week in the hope that it’ll shake loose the wax, stop the ringing and give me my hearing back. If this doesn’t work, I may have tinnitus.
All in all January could have been a lot worse but then again it could have been a lot better.
A new year’s message from picturesque Hampshire
FrothiesI recently discovered something I didn’t know, which is that there is a word in the English language that breaks my brain. I can’t process it. Something about it just doesn’t fit inside my head.
The word is “froths”.
This came up the other day when I needed to describe something frothy to someone. I attempted to say that it “froths up”, but every time I tried to say it, my head got stuck and the word that came out was “frothies”. I made four attempts to say “froths”, all of which were “frothies”, and then I gave up and started a new sentence that avoided using the word altogether.
I don’t know why this is. I don’t know how long this has afflicted me. I know the word “froths” exists, of course. I can sit here and type it. But each time I’m approaching the point of typing it, my brain first suggests “frothies”, and even now – even knowing that this is a problem, and that the word is coming up, and being conscious that I might get it wrong, I still can’t say it right on the first attempt.
I have decided that, from now on, I’m just going to stay away from any bubbly, foamy or otherwise aereated liquids as a way of avoiding the problem completely. That’s definitely the answer.
Newsboost – Withering Wasps now Wanted WindfallNew shock discovery by scientists set to change the world’s opinion of one of the most hated animals in existence; the wasp.
Wasps have somewhat of a reputation as a bit of a bad thing. What do they do? They get in your way, they sting you, steal your jam sandwich and run away laughing (or presumably, they don’t make a lot of noise). Now it seems as though the tide may be turning and their time in the sun is coming.
Scientists studying the animals in Bulgaria, in conjunction with ancient medical texts from Greece, have come across a startling revelation. It would appear as though the ancient Greeks actively used them in their daily routine and ‘face wasps’ were used to cleanse and tone. The book in question, ‘To anthrópino sóma: énas éfchristos odigós’ (or ‘The human body: a handy guide’) by Tony Agafya, details a recipe of clay, sand, ash and wasps which was apparently utilised to refresh on a daily basis. The user would cover a nest of yet more wasps in the concoction, transfer it to a small room (such as a cupboard), cover their face in honey and wait for the wasps to descend on them. Later advances in technology resulted in the ‘voúrtsa sfíkas’ or ‘wasp brush’, a small brush with around fifty wasps glued to it. The user would dip the brush in the mixture and apply directly to the face.
Originally when the text was translated in the 19th century it was thought to refer to ‘face wash’. This egregious error has put the human-wasp relations back several hundred years.
“It is quite an eye-opener,” said Melody Humbunkle, chief scientist at the Klonditch Klinger institute in Sofia, Bulgaria. “All this time we were using natural products to clean our faces when one of the main ingredients was missing. This will change everything.”
Since the report was issued, the major skincare companies have been scrambling to develop the first product to incorporate wasps as an active ingredient. Representatives from Lancome, Garnier and even Johnson and Johnson were seen desperately bidding for wasp farms on the open market, a market which was once seen as lucrative and pointless.
“The ancient practises of the Greeks are merely a starting point; we do not advise the public to start smothering their chops in sticky substances in the hope of attracting wasps,” remarked John Disspale, regional secretary for the department of Health and Social Care in the UK. “It would be best to wait for a safe product made by a professional company.”
Specialists predict that even with the lockdown in place, the first wasp face wash will be available on the high street within a month’s time.
Ditching the sniftersAs close friends of mine, you’ll know I have been battling a devastating addiction for many years now. A horrible, destructive dependency on snifters, which has alienated my family, cost me my livelihood and brought me to the very brink of financial insolvency.
The good news is that I’m making progress on kicking this disgusting habit. Unfortunately, as every addict knows, weaning yourself off will only take you so far. Sooner or later you have to go cold turkey. But if I try that, I might just never breathe again. I need some other breathing aid to see me over the difficult transition to snifterlessness. I need snifter methodone.
The recommendation I got from a professional medical person was a saline sinus swasher (possibly not its official name, I can’t remember). I gave it a go yesterday. Let me tell you what it’s like.
There are 60 sachets of weird powder stuff so I can use this thing several times a day, but so far, I haven’t yet had a second go. Ditching the snifters is going really well.
Designer diseasesI’m starting a new business venture and this is your chance to get in on the ground floor. Here’s the pitch.
Designer diseases are going to be the next big thing. Here’s how it works: influencers are everywhere now, filling up Instagram with their poses and getting lots of sweet corporate sponsorship on Youtube. What they’re missing is the human angle, something to pull on people’s emotions. Enter the designer disease.
We will offer a full 360-degree customised bespoke personal consulting service where we will offer a choice of designer diseases and infect the influencer with their choice of ailment. We then provide the tools and resources for the influencer to splash their horrible illness all over the ‘gram, soak up the sympathy and massively up their likes.
Already, Kendal Jenner (is that one of them?) has signed up for a package we’re calling “The ‘Roids”: painful hemhorroids form a distinctive grape-like package that’s visible through lycra and gymwear. We suggest using pile cream as a stylish but challenging form of face paint.
Are you in? I’m going to need $15,000 for a 5% stake. This is going to be huge.
The transformationOn Sunday I turned 33 years old. I was expecting the grey hair, the wrinkles and the sudden loss of control over my bladder, of course. Incontinence comes with the territory.
What I wasn’t expecting on turning 33 was a rather sudden transformation into a dinosaur. Green scales, yellow spikes down my back, the works.
I’m not sure what all this means for my career or my personal life, but I’m certainly enjoying getting to grips with my new-found skills in roaring, stomping on things and basking on warm rocks.