Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Monologue

This, and I swear 'tis no word of a lie, is the conversation I had with a check-out lady at Sainsbugs when I made the stupid mistake yesterday of thinking, 'I'll just pop into Sainsbugs on my way home from work for a few bits.' And I say 'conversation' but you will see, as I put my contribution in italics, that it was all a bit one sided...

'Have you got bags?'
'Yes thanks.'
'Is it cold out?'
'I didn't think it was too bad considering it's January. Isn't it nice the evenings are growing li...'
'Only I was sitting here today and all I could feel was a draught. They always put me on this till and usually it isn't too bad but I thought today, I thought, there is definitely a draught. Mind you, it wasn't like the draught I felt two weeks before Christmas. But that was me thyroid. I'd been sitting on this till and I kept coming over all strange. Five times that shift they had to take me off the till. I fell of me seat the last time, I felt so weak. So they sent me home. And I said to me 'usband, not me first one, he was no good, this is me second, I said, Mike, I've got to go to the doctors and get a blood test. I think me thyroid's gone again. It takes 'em ages to adjust me medication sometimes but I knew something was up and I wanted it sorted by Christmas. So I went to the doctor, 'e took some blood, said call in a week for the results. I went 'ome and I said to Mike, I said, I bet it's over 3.6, and he said I bet it is too, like last time. I said I hope not because it's nearly Christmas and 'e said, don't you worry we'll get it sorted before Christmas. So I calls the doctors for the result and the receptionist says it's okay it's 0.9, the doctor says he don't want to see you. And I says, but that's what my last result was, 0.9, it can't be the same. And I'm feeling all cold and weak, barely enough strength to get out of bed and watch a bit of telly, it must be more than that. I lost three pounds in four days, and you can't tell me that's right...'
'No, I suppose not...'
'...so she said, her, the receptionist, the doctor says he don't want to see you. He says the test is okay. She was very rude, well they are, aren't they, receptionists, but they ain't doctors, are they? So I said to Mike, she says it's okay and he says it can't be. I says, should I go to the surgery? And 'e says, I think you should go to the surgery. It's nearly Christmas. So I went to the surgery and I told 'em to look at my results again, and do you know what they found?'
'No...'
'They found they'd given me the wrong test results! They'd given me my last test results, not my latest test results. 7.4 it was! No wonder I was feeling queer. I could have fallen into a coma at any time, or DIED! I phoned Mike, I said, Mike they've got me results mixed up. The doctor wants to see me now. I'm urgent. Mike says, well, you've got to get it sorted by Christmas, and I said, do you think I should make a formal complaint about that know-all receptionist 'cos she was rude and she got the wrong set of results and Mike said, I think you should. So I think I will. That'll be £44. 03 please. How many of your own bags did you use?'
'Three...'
'Got a club card? So me medicine's all sorted now, no thanks to 'er, the receptionist but I'm going to complain. Mike thinks I should. What do you think?'
'I think I hope it all turns out well for you...'
'Me too. I could have DIED! Bye...see ya soon!'

I wish I knew what it was about my face that made total strangers want to tell me their innermost secrets and weird medical problems. P'raps I should wear a bag over my head.

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