Sleep eluded me last night. Overcome with the most abusive pain
in my right ear, I was unable to do anything but moan and feel sorry
for myself. And swallow industrial quantities of Ibuprofen in an
attempt to deaden the ache. I must have eventually fallen asleep
because I was woken up with the pain shooting down the left side
of my face, combined with the added discomfort of being unable to
hear with my left ear. Only one thing to do, another trip to the
Due to bad experiences with my bout of malaria at the 'recommended'
surgery, I asked my domestic staff of any other doctors in the area.
I was told of a good doctor only a five minute walk away.
And so walk there I did.
Lindsey joined me and with her by my side I presented myself at
the reception desk. I filled out the forms and registered in their
books, following all the strict commands that were levelled at me
by the fat nurse. On completing the papers, and just before I was
to hand over my fat wad of money for registration, the nurse turned
to Lindsey, "Please roll up your sleeve."
"Sorry?" Lindsey replied.
"Roll up your sleeve"
The nurse looked at me with a 'can't-you-get-your-wife-to-comply-with-my-instructions'
type of look, and said "to take your blood pressure madam."
I looked around the waiting room and noticed a distinct lack of
men. "I think there seems to be some kind of misunderstanding
here" I said, to which Lindsey added "he's the one that's
ill, he's got a sore ear. Nothing wrong with me."
The nurse looked blankly at us. "So why have you come to a
gynaecological clinic then?"
Anyway, you'll be pleased to hear that we found another 'hospital'
and the problem was sorted (after an intense experience of an 'ear
syringe'- with equipment of dubious cleanliness). I can once again
hear with my left ear, and the pain in my right is now under the
control of antibiotic drops and pills. The downside is no alcohol,
but that's a small price to pay.