I was going to write a post about how infuriated I had become at the people who are urging each other to buy the Rage Against The Machine song, but instead I’m going to bore you all about the day I went to the doctors.
My doctor is younger than me. Now that might be OK when you are 60 or 70 but what about when you’re a sprightly 31 year old behemoth of a hunk of a man? I feel awkward talking to him because when I say I’ve attempted suicide more times than he has had hot dinners I’m probably right! Boy is he young.
When he called my name I looked up and saw he was glaring at me like I’d just thrown a statue at his mum. He wasn’t best pleased that I had not been back to see him since the last time. He said he was angry because he was concerned. Apparently when I did not contact the surgery he tried calling me and I had neglected to give them my new number.
I told him what I’d been up to, including things getting too much and me having to get away, pissing someone off, trying to kill myself again, selling off my blogs and seeing a counsellor. I also told him that I did complete the course of pills he prescribed me and that they made no difference to my mood.
He gave me more but only a month worth because of the latest suicide attempt. He did this to me before when I tried to do it twice in a week. If you have a history of using pills to try and commit suicide he only gives you a small amount so you can’t do any harm to yourself.
When I went before he asked me to take a test to see if I had damaged my liver and kidneys with my two suicide attempts. They phoned me and told me that the doctor wanted to speak to me urgently about my results, so I guessed that I had done some kind of damage.
He told me that there was damage but now they needed to take a blood test to find out exactly what kind of damage had been done. So he sent me into the other room to await a nurse. I read the paper he gave me and it said blood test and an urethra test.
I knew exactly what an urethra test might entail because I know what the urethra is.
When I was 18 I found something on my cock so I went to the doctors who referred me to a clinic and I had to have an STD test and they stuck a swab in the urethra opening and took a sample.
Do you know why that hole is so small? It’s because you’re not supposed to put anything in there!
Thankfully the test was clean and the ‘thing’ I found turned out to be a patch of psoriasis. But it was a very painful procedure and something I never want to endure ever again.
Sitting in the empty office I just kept thinking “Oh shit, this is going to hurt!”
Then in walked Halle Berry.
Oh great, so not only do I have to have this painful test (it is more painful than having a baby!) but I have to now pull my trousers and underwear down and show this very attractive woman my cock.
She took my blood test and removed about a pint of blood that had me convinced she might be a vampire. Then came the ‘unveiling’. I stood there in a very warm office while a very attractive nurse fondled my cock and all the while the only thing running through my head “please DO NOT get an erection!”
You could have heard a pin drop in there. Even the screaming babies in the waiting room had become quiet. There was no giggling or comments such as “I’ve never seen one like that before” before any of you leave your hilarious comments.
Have some sympathy you bastards, I was molested, and violated, by a very attractive nurse/vampire.
I am running the 2018 London Marathon to raise money for Livability UK in memory of my dad. If you can I'd appreciate any donation you can spare. http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/deansaliba