Right well, its half an hour before I need to change out of my horrid floral pyjamas and go to the doctor's office. I am making precautionary determinations, a contingency plan you understand.
If it is nothing, a mere trifling you'll be fine now dear back to work with you then I will be quite happy yet creepingly resentful that I had to repeatedly visit the doctor. This will turn into doubt and furious wondering as to just why then did I need to spend an entire week in bed if it is nothing followed by a mild reluctance to let go the dream of becoming The Newtown Patient. The mystery of my missing fingerprints will remain. I will consider a life of crime.
If it is mildly serious and I need to take further precautions or medications whilst slowly taking back my former busy life I will be satisfied that doctor visiting and sitting in bed was necessary, eager to redevelop a busy melancholy preventing schedule followed by a mild reluctance to let go the dream of becoming The Newtown Patient. The mystery of my missing fingerprints may be partially solved.
If it is very serious I will be pale and brave. A team of nurses will be assigned, they will be cheery and prevent all woe is me thoughts, they will make cups of tea for the never ending stream of well wishing friends who are constant companions at my bedside. The fingerprint mystery will be solved and I will become The Newtown Patient, which is very different from The English Patient mostly because I have not seen The English Patient. All of my friends who have so far failed to telephone and enquire after my health will now feel very bad, as they should.
I really should stop being surprised that whenever anything happens to me, no matter how bad or how trivial that my friends do not care and do not make any effort whatsoever. The only one who has made any bother at all is Elliot and that was very mild and not very taxing. My mother of course continues with messaging and telephoning. Disturbingly my father telephoned and already knew that I was sick, I asked him how he knew and he said my brother told him but in fact my brother tells me that it was the other way around. This is indeed a mystery, just like my missing fingerprints.
If it is nothing, a mere trifling you'll be fine now dear back to work with you then I will be quite happy yet creepingly resentful that I had to repeatedly visit the doctor. This will turn into doubt and furious wondering as to just why then did I need to spend an entire week in bed if it is nothing followed by a mild reluctance to let go the dream of becoming The Newtown Patient. The mystery of my missing fingerprints will remain. I will consider a life of crime.
If it is mildly serious and I need to take further precautions or medications whilst slowly taking back my former busy life I will be satisfied that doctor visiting and sitting in bed was necessary, eager to redevelop a busy melancholy preventing schedule followed by a mild reluctance to let go the dream of becoming The Newtown Patient. The mystery of my missing fingerprints may be partially solved.
If it is very serious I will be pale and brave. A team of nurses will be assigned, they will be cheery and prevent all woe is me thoughts, they will make cups of tea for the never ending stream of well wishing friends who are constant companions at my bedside. The fingerprint mystery will be solved and I will become The Newtown Patient, which is very different from The English Patient mostly because I have not seen The English Patient. All of my friends who have so far failed to telephone and enquire after my health will now feel very bad, as they should.
I really should stop being surprised that whenever anything happens to me, no matter how bad or how trivial that my friends do not care and do not make any effort whatsoever. The only one who has made any bother at all is Elliot and that was very mild and not very taxing. My mother of course continues with messaging and telephoning. Disturbingly my father telephoned and already knew that I was sick, I asked him how he knew and he said my brother told him but in fact my brother tells me that it was the other way around. This is indeed a mystery, just like my missing fingerprints.
Comments
Having a kid is like leprosy in the early 20th century in South America, once you have it you get stuck on an island to only associate with your own kind, no-one else comes near.
Except the lovely Dale, hope you get better soon, and i'll try not to take up too much of you conscious time next time we chat.
I'm hoping this is not serious, perhaps stress related? Wishing you well on departure from the Dcotors, now if it were of the Timelord variety you'd be hurtling across the Universe instead of Newtown.
Rups xoxo
Rups if I was a timelord I would have the best timelord theme tune ever. There were be a special dance.
Thanks Dan, hope you are winning your fight against evil.
oh-just-look-how-serious-it-all-is
-where's-my-Academy-Award-you-bastard
kind of way.
Do get better, oh Slamma of the Dale.
It got 7.1 on imdb, so some people must've liked it, I guess.