So turns out I must be infecting Alana.
On Saturday, Alana was looking forward to a relaxing day consisting of yoga and acupuncture. She merrily left for yoga only to return 20 minutes later unable to get there because of traffic. Fail one.
I was busy with my new shabby chic paint decorating business and so we were a little late leaving for acupuncture. Anyway, we then couldn't find the place and soent a good 40 minutes wandering up and down the same street. for me, this was a pretty average moment but for Alana, the world was slowly caving in as she realised there was no imminent relief for her back pain. Eventually we found the place. Only to wait at reception for 20 minutes in a strange 'have we got the right place and where have all the people gone' vortex.
So we went for a Korean BBQ.
Anyway, we found ourselves back there and I watched as Alana got jabbed with pins. A very strange discussion then ensued which kind of went like this.
Lovely Thai acupuncture lady: yes we treat male infertility here. But the problem is the man never really knows it working.
Us: yeah
Lovely Thai acupuncture lady: so we get them to taste their sperm.
Us: WHAT??
Lovely Thai acupuncture lady: we get them to taste their sperm. Every 3 months. They can taste the increased mobility and thickness. It is earthier.
Us: oh wow (or something to that effect)
Lovely Thai acupuncture lady: yes, they aste it by blood taste.......
Test ladies and gentlemen. Test not taste.......
Anyway, next on the agenda Alana is going for a cervical perpetration acupuncture session - sounds fun, I'll let you know what they do!
Wednesday 19 June 2013
Friday 14 June 2013
Eye drama
So, last week I thought I was dying.
I went for a routine eye test. I was pretty happy as being the stingy pom that I am I was getting it free on my private health care. Not really enough to justify the financial output of private health care but that is a political rant for another time. Oh how I miss the National Health Service.
Anyway, so back to death. The first time I went for the eye test, I realised I had forgotten my Medicare card and so could not get my test done. This was following a mad dash across the city in rush hour to get my eyes tested. Oh well, it's not like its the first time I have forgotten something. Anyway, the next week I went back equipped with my Medicare card. Routine eye test was conducted. My script hadn't changed much, blah blah blah. But then the attractive optometrist, whilst gazing into my eyes with a camera thingy lets out a little oh....
On finishing the eye test, she referred back to her little oh, telling me that I had dark shadows in the back of my eyes where it should be pink. With a casual shake of the head, she tells me I should come back next week so she can examine them further. she comments she has never seen anything like it before and i feel like Alice when the white rabbit is commenting curiouser and curiouser. She tells me she is going to have to put drops in my eyes to dilate the pupils so she can see what is going on. I act relaxed, but inside I am already planning my own funeral.
I pretend to be relaxed as I tell Alana about the course of events whilst putting on a slight show of drama, highlighting that the optometrist has never seen anything like it whilst maintaining my super cool, aren't I brave bravado. My lovely little wife sees right through this though.
As soon as she leaves me to step into the toilet, I'm on it, googling the cause of pigmentation at the back of the eyes.
I decide I have a bleed of the brain into the eyes.
I live with this worry for the week. Not helped by the headache I have on the weekend - further proof of my brain bleed (rather than the red wine I am drinking). I make a few jokes at work, where my supportive boss tells me I am probably dying and my wonderful colleague tells me she will get me a guide dog.
I spend the week planning my return to the UK to celebrate my last few months of life. It is a super plan as Alana is on maternity leave and so easily accompany me.
The day of the pupil dilating comes around. I leave work in a hurry, only to realise I have left my wallet behind once I get to the opticians (complete with my Medicare card in). Thankfully the dude had recorded my Medicare number before.
Anyway, I have the drops. Alana is with me to drive me home, which is good as it feels like I have taken loads of ecstasy once the drops take effect. I mean, I'm not hugging everyone and dancing to shit music, but, as my pupils dilate I can't focus on anything and everything looks pretty blurry. It's fun for a bit as Alana takes pictures of my eyes and shows me the effect.
Anyway, I have another eye test. I start to question whether it is normal that my eyes are aching. I can feel my palms getting sweaty as I wait for the verdict.
It's like a bad episode of Home and Away as the optometrist shows me pictures of my eyes, complete with black bits. The suspense is killing me.....
And then she tells me she's not sure what it is. She thinks it is just normal for my eyes.
I'm not dying. Although she does tell me that if I ever have any sudden flashes in my eyes, I'm to go straight to A&E. I don't ask why.
Alana tells me she thinks it is because I am ginger. And gay. And everyone knows that gingers don't have souls.
I went for a routine eye test. I was pretty happy as being the stingy pom that I am I was getting it free on my private health care. Not really enough to justify the financial output of private health care but that is a political rant for another time. Oh how I miss the National Health Service.
Anyway, so back to death. The first time I went for the eye test, I realised I had forgotten my Medicare card and so could not get my test done. This was following a mad dash across the city in rush hour to get my eyes tested. Oh well, it's not like its the first time I have forgotten something. Anyway, the next week I went back equipped with my Medicare card. Routine eye test was conducted. My script hadn't changed much, blah blah blah. But then the attractive optometrist, whilst gazing into my eyes with a camera thingy lets out a little oh....
On finishing the eye test, she referred back to her little oh, telling me that I had dark shadows in the back of my eyes where it should be pink. With a casual shake of the head, she tells me I should come back next week so she can examine them further. she comments she has never seen anything like it before and i feel like Alice when the white rabbit is commenting curiouser and curiouser. She tells me she is going to have to put drops in my eyes to dilate the pupils so she can see what is going on. I act relaxed, but inside I am already planning my own funeral.
I pretend to be relaxed as I tell Alana about the course of events whilst putting on a slight show of drama, highlighting that the optometrist has never seen anything like it whilst maintaining my super cool, aren't I brave bravado. My lovely little wife sees right through this though.
As soon as she leaves me to step into the toilet, I'm on it, googling the cause of pigmentation at the back of the eyes.
I decide I have a bleed of the brain into the eyes.
I live with this worry for the week. Not helped by the headache I have on the weekend - further proof of my brain bleed (rather than the red wine I am drinking). I make a few jokes at work, where my supportive boss tells me I am probably dying and my wonderful colleague tells me she will get me a guide dog.
I spend the week planning my return to the UK to celebrate my last few months of life. It is a super plan as Alana is on maternity leave and so easily accompany me.
The day of the pupil dilating comes around. I leave work in a hurry, only to realise I have left my wallet behind once I get to the opticians (complete with my Medicare card in). Thankfully the dude had recorded my Medicare number before.
Anyway, I have the drops. Alana is with me to drive me home, which is good as it feels like I have taken loads of ecstasy once the drops take effect. I mean, I'm not hugging everyone and dancing to shit music, but, as my pupils dilate I can't focus on anything and everything looks pretty blurry. It's fun for a bit as Alana takes pictures of my eyes and shows me the effect.
Anyway, I have another eye test. I start to question whether it is normal that my eyes are aching. I can feel my palms getting sweaty as I wait for the verdict.
It's like a bad episode of Home and Away as the optometrist shows me pictures of my eyes, complete with black bits. The suspense is killing me.....
And then she tells me she's not sure what it is. She thinks it is just normal for my eyes.
I'm not dying. Although she does tell me that if I ever have any sudden flashes in my eyes, I'm to go straight to A&E. I don't ask why.
Alana tells me she thinks it is because I am ginger. And gay. And everyone knows that gingers don't have souls.
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