valorous idylls chapter 8
The Price Is Right
Brooding over their mobile phones in the corner of my kitchen, Farmer Jones and his wife hatched some plans.
I continued to urge the Archangel Raphael to go for a late touch down.
Before doing anything else, the good neighbours decided to call in another neighbour, also a nurse, who arrived quickly.
"Sure it's nearly better," I pleaded.
"That's a bad break," the new arrival said quietly.
She suggested that I go to the nearby Vista Clinic and get a letter from a doctor there confirming I needed treatment. The letter would cost 75 Euro.
"Seventy five bleedin' Euro," I blurted.
"I'll pay it," said Farmer Jones.
In spite of the nurses strike, Naas hospital would admit me if I had that letter.
The farmer and his wife led me to their car.
Soon I was being seen by Doctor Donaldson in the Vista Clinic.
He was African with a cultured British accent.
Doctor Donaldson gave a cursory glance at my arm.
"How did it happen?" he asked.
I answered carefully
"I was walking in the late afternoon. It was sunny. Level ground. I had two dogs with me. There might have been traces of frost still about. One of the dogs was on the lead. He might have jerked suddenly. I was wearing new shoes. They mightn't have a great grip. I have a knee that gets a bit weak. I suppose it might have acted up. Whatever happened, I went down very fast."
I thought it best not to bring in the bit about the human sized scald crow.
A lot of doctors are surprisingly sceptical about such notions.
"Had you drink taken?"
"No. No drink. No drugs. I've no interest in those things."
Doctor Donaldson stood up.
"What I don't understand," he said musingly, "is why you're not screaming with pain."
Me and Snake Plisskan, eh bold readers.
But I didn't say this either.
"I will write you the letter," said Doctor Donaldson. "You can wait outside."
As I went to the door. Doctor Donaldson stood up suddenly, strode around his desk, and thrust his finger into my elbow.
I turned to face him.
"Oh?" I said.
Without a word Donaldson returned to his desk.
I left the room.
Brooding over their mobile phones in the corner of my kitchen, Farmer Jones and his wife hatched some plans.
I continued to urge the Archangel Raphael to go for a late touch down.
Before doing anything else, the good neighbours decided to call in another neighbour, also a nurse, who arrived quickly.
"Sure it's nearly better," I pleaded.
"That's a bad break," the new arrival said quietly.
She suggested that I go to the nearby Vista Clinic and get a letter from a doctor there confirming I needed treatment. The letter would cost 75 Euro.
"Seventy five bleedin' Euro," I blurted.
"I'll pay it," said Farmer Jones.
In spite of the nurses strike, Naas hospital would admit me if I had that letter.
The farmer and his wife led me to their car.
Soon I was being seen by Doctor Donaldson in the Vista Clinic.
He was African with a cultured British accent.
Doctor Donaldson gave a cursory glance at my arm.
"How did it happen?" he asked.
I answered carefully
"I was walking in the late afternoon. It was sunny. Level ground. I had two dogs with me. There might have been traces of frost still about. One of the dogs was on the lead. He might have jerked suddenly. I was wearing new shoes. They mightn't have a great grip. I have a knee that gets a bit weak. I suppose it might have acted up. Whatever happened, I went down very fast."
I thought it best not to bring in the bit about the human sized scald crow.
A lot of doctors are surprisingly sceptical about such notions.
"Had you drink taken?"
"No. No drink. No drugs. I've no interest in those things."
Doctor Donaldson stood up.
"What I don't understand," he said musingly, "is why you're not screaming with pain."
Me and Snake Plisskan, eh bold readers.
But I didn't say this either.
"I will write you the letter," said Doctor Donaldson. "You can wait outside."
As I went to the door. Doctor Donaldson stood up suddenly, strode around his desk, and thrust his finger into my elbow.
I turned to face him.
"Oh?" I said.
Without a word Donaldson returned to his desk.
I left the room.
posted by heelers | 10:43 PM
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