Tuesday, 5th August, 2008 - Happy Birthday Jonathan

I have to go see the doctor next week. Anyone who knows me even slightly understands that this is not my favourite pastime. The doc in question is a sweetie: very kind, treats me like I have a clue, he looks about 12 years old and weighs about 105 pounds dripping wet. So of course he always tells me to lose weight. I have lost 26 pounds from my heaviest but he is so far ahead of me I have no chance of ever catching up. To paraphrase AbFab - I will probably finally be thin enough about 5 weeks after I die.

I am slightly worried that the upshot of this visit will involve a small operation. I don't do hospitals real well. I can't even look at a photograph of a hypodermic needle in a magazine let alone be in the same room as one, added to which I have a serious fear (I am not making this up) of large glasses of water so I avoid any kind of hospital situation at all costs because they are always obsessed with encouraging people to drink gallons of H2O.

Over the years I have freaked out quite a few GP's (doctors). One of the best times - I was 8 months pregnant with Matthew. I went to the doctor because I had a sharp pain in my chest, breastbone area. Convo went as follows and once again - all true I am not making this up.

Doc: What's the prob?
Me: Our car wouldn't start so I was pushing it down Harwich Road to do a bump start but that didn't work, I got to the roundabout which was really busy and had to keep on going down the next bit and that's when something in my chest went 'bang' but on the next hill the car did start. Thank goodness.
Doc: Where was Alan!!!???
Me: In the car.
Doc: He was driving and you were pushing?
Me: Yes.
Doc: Why?!
Me: 'Cos I don't have a drivers' license.
Doc: So?
Me: So even though I know how to bump start a car if we got it going, it needs to be driven around the block to charge the battery and keep it going and as I don't have a license or know how to drive on roads, I can't do that. So I had to push and that's when the thing in my chest went bang.

He just shook his head.

The other 'doctor-freak-out time' was when Alan kicked Matthew across the room and we ended up at the Emergency Room.

Sunday mornings in our house back then: tea made, newspaper brought up, both kids on the bed with us, we used to play Humpty Dumpty - kid balances on your knees and then you drop your knees and they fall onto the bed giggling. Most of the time. Oh and two extra bits of pertinent info: bedroom included a chest of drawers with one drawer very slightly ajar and Alan had a really painful ingrown toenail. Jonathan was about 6 years old and Matthew was 18 months or so and just talking in sentences.
Humpty Dumpty, kid landed on his dad's ingrown toe nail, Alan kicked Matt across the room, Matt hit the back of his head on the drawer, bleeding everywhere, we frantically dressed, drove to the E.R.

Nurse: What happened? Both kids, in unison: 'Dad kicked me.' 'Daddy kicked Matthew across the room.' We were immediately separated from both children and each other and over the next two hours the medical staff questioned us. We told the truth. Eventually we were put in the same room. 'What did you tell them?' 'The truth.' ' What did you tell them?' 'the truth.' 'Oh Gawd we're screwed…………..'

But then the doctors came in and said 'That story is so stupid that it has to be true. If you had deliberately hurt the kid you would have come up with a way better excuse.' Sadly these days, I am not sure that common sense would prevail.

Matt? Don't sue, please? It's just a little scar, just one stitch on the back of your head……………