At The Doctor's

 

I wasn't feeling very well lately. Been having this recurring problem. It's on and off really. I remember it first happened when I was a teenager and I started ballet lessons. I used to wear those very tight-fitting tights. I suppose that's why they called them tights really.

Very uncomfortable they were. I had to wear them all the time at home to get used to them. You know ... get the feel for them. I used to practice my pas de deux and other moves you do at ballet. I raised my leg high onto the mantelpiece and the dog attacked me. The cat ran up the curtain and brought the whole thing down.

Anyway, back to my problem. I went to the doctor's. Unfortunately my usual doctor was not there. He was replaced by Dr Angelica Withers. 

I don't like being seen by women doctors. I get embarrassed I suppose. I thought of leaving and going back home. Then I thought. I've come all the way here; I might as well see her. Mine is a very tiny problem. She will have seen it before many times. Doctors tend to see many tiny personal problems in the course of their duty.

So I went into her insulting room.

Dr Angelica was a pleasant enough person and asked me what was the matter. I said, "I've been getting these hot flushes. Getting very red in the face as if I'm permanently blushing."

"Oh ..." she said, "do you have pain in the knees?"

"No!" I replied.

"Pity," she said, "I've been reading about that only the other day. I do a lot of medical reading to keep up to date," she continued. "Important in my job. I get these women's magazines and they have good articles about various ailments and diseases. You don't have haemorrhoids, do you?"

"No!" I said emphatically.

"There was an article about that the other day," she said, "do you know what you get if you go to the North Pole and sit on a block of ice?"

I shook my head.

She said, "Polaroids!"

She could not help me about my blushing and my red face and hot flushes. She suggested I call back in a few weeks' time when perhaps there'd be something about them in her women's magazines.

I left her insulting room rather sad and dejected.

To cheer myself up I thought I'd buy some new shirts for work. White ones of course.

I said to the man in the shop, "Hello my good man. I would like two white shirts please. Collar size 14 inches!"

He looked at me and said, "I think Sir means 16 inches collar size!"

"Not at all!" I responded, "I know my collar size. It is definitely 14 inches. It has been so ever since I was at school!!!!!"

"That's strange," he said, "do you get red in the face with hot flushes as if you're blushing?"