I’d an ultrasound scan of my pelvis and abdomen at a Harley Street surgery last Monday. Kinky little procedure it is where the doctor lubes up a cold metal object before sliding it’s warm rays across your lower torso. We did our best to ignore the awkwardness with some gruff man talk about football.
Not my actual abdomen.
I’ve had ultrasound treatment before that did compromise a couple of ethical codes. There was something about an attractive trainee physio administering lubed up warm rays to my prone, semi-naked body that invited… an arousal. It was very lucky for me that she handled it professionally.
Back to the hairy man trying to find lumps in my organs. He scanned me for about half an hour and at one point I thought he’d found something. As he fiddled the device for an extra duration around my pancreas he said,
“I am going to tell you at the end of the scan if I find anything that concerns me.”
He didn’t look at me as he said this but kept his eyes on the screen, leaning in closer, apparently bemused by the scale of the malignant growth inside me. He continued the process through to it’s completion then handed me some napkins to clean up the lube.
My actual arm, post blood test, holding holiday shopping.
“There is nothing abnormal in your organs.”
“Phew, for a moment there I thought you found something.” I was covered in lube.
“No. Everything appears fine.” His arms were so lubey it looked like he’d birthed a calf. “That’ll be £380.”
Bam, with that I was off, organs in place, shouting “BUPA! BUPA! I’ve got BUPA!” and on up the road to a separate practice for a very unkinky blood test. I’ll make light of that when I get the results back.
Stagger is having the blood sucked from my body for testing. / Flow is “There is nothing wrong with your organs.” The words you want to hear following an ultrasound scan of the pelvis and abdomen.
Get this, a Russian, a Romanian and a Moldovan walk into a bar. The bar is Catch on Kingsland Road and they’re joining me for a drink, thank you very much.
A couple of drinks prompt the desire to dance amongst my Eastern bloc friends. Happy days. But they suggest some underground club that’s open til 5. Dance til 5?! No chance. I’ve only got 2 moves and I don’t even know what they’re called. It’s late and we’re running short on opions. So I take them to the most hit and miss venue in East London, Mother Bar on Old Street.
When the crowd has been 80% frustrated, drunk males and the music hardcore, I’ve managed some pretty bad nights in Mother. Last Saturday the gender split was 50/50, the music body-moving and the atmosphere feckless and happy. Mother had a buzz on. We were prompted into tequila shots and bold dancing.
It became like a dance Eurovision. Ireland was on Nul Points until a couple of tequilas and a blast of Ol Dirty Bastard got my limbs in a cooperative mood. The girls, representing Russia and Moldova , looked great, adding a bit of class to proceedings. But of course we know that class doesn’t win Eurovisions. That left only one possible winner, the man with the cargo shorts and ponytail from Romania. He told me he was a fan of Sepultura and drum ‘n’ base and then proceeded to dance simultaneously to both. A head bang mixed with some fast feet. Douze points. For exuberance, originality and involvement of others (the girls), the man was unbeatable.
This is worse than naming your child Punchme.
The Romanian went home with the Russian to celebrate his Eurovision dance victory. The Irishman said goodnight to the girl from Moldova. In 10 days me and she are off to the Ola Festival to renew the music and dance thing in the heat of Almeria, southern Spain. Stick the tequila on ice. Toma!
Other news: I’m going to start uploading photos and video from my camera phone starting with this shot of a ponytailed 10-year-old boy. He’s no connection with the blog entry other than he has a ponytail and I saw him on the tube the day after the dance off.
“The Dark Knight” disappointed. Heath Ledger was good, Christian Bale was given nothing to do, the central idea that Batman couldn’t be Gotham’s hero because he is a vigilante was weak, the action was predictable standard blockbuster fare.
Only when Ledger’s Joker was on screen did the pulse quicken. He provided unpredictability, excitement, tension - exactly what all other elements of the film lacked.
It’s a shame that Ledger’s head was so wrecked that he killed himself. It would’ve been interesting to see him perform as The Joker again. In “The Dark Knight” there are only a couple of scenes where The Joker is pushed out of his comfort zone. In these scenes he raises his voice, and this thick rage and nastiness comes spilling out. These are the moments when the audience tightens up. They are hoping that The Joker regains control but sickly intrigued to see what will happen if he doesn’t. Oh to see Ledger take The Joker further, to the point where the elastic snaps. How terrifying to see him loose control and menace the audience. Bump the rating up to 15 and let him go viscious. I’d have thought there was catharsis to be had in acting out this arch-mindfucker. Not enough for Heath I suppose.
Heath Ledger has left us with an unnerving, unflinching villain. It’s a commited, strong performance from a talented actor. Here is The Joker disturbing Bruce Wayne’s fundraiser.
“There is nothing wrong with your appendix” said Dr. Kuldev through a half smile, “but you do have the flu.”
“But why do I have extra pain near my appendix?”
“Take two paracetemol and rest for a couple of days.” Still the smile.
“Perhaps I’ve torn a stomach muscle?!”
“Your pulse is normal. Try the paracetemol.” He was taking me less seriously than ever as he showed me towards the door.
On my way out I took a look at the dregs in the waiting room and wondered if you had to treat your body like a slurry pit to get more than 60 seconds of a doctor’s time.
"Take two paracetemol."
The flu whatever. I took a couple of days off work, jerked about the flat and watched some dvds. I’m going to see “The Dark Knight” tomorrow night so I took the opportunity to re-watch “Batman Begins”. I must’ve been a little drunk when I watched it originally because it was like seeing a new film. I’m not a fan of cartoons or fantastic superheroes, I prefer reality and don’t usually like to stray far from it, but with Christian Bale acting and Christophe Nolan directing, I really enjoyed “Batman Begins”. In between all the special effects bollix was a very watchable conflict between good and evil, right and wrong. I can now look forward to the HYPED sequel. Heath Ledger is dead, anyone?
Christian Bale is one of my favourite actors. Who won the Oscar the year “American Psycho” came out? Well Christian Bale should’ve won it for his clinial performance as bum-murdering, hooker-torturing regular city worker, Patrick Bateman.
Here’s a short clip of Patrick, ready to faint, or slaughter, because his colleagues’ business cards are superior to his. If they ever make a sequel to “American Psycho” they should set it in Dr. Kundev’s surgery. We’d certainly empathise with the killer’s actions.
I’ve filled out a form stating the pain in my side is an emergency. “Strong pain in the appendix area” is what I put on the form.
Thing is, there’s no rush to see me even though I’ve declared myself an emergency. I came here at 9.45 and it’s almost 11 now. By the way, I don’t really think I am an emergency case but I’d be waiting at least a week for a proper appointment. Could be a goner by then. Better to get things done now. But until my call, I’ve to sweat it out in this nothing-to-read waiting room.
Not on my shoes.
There’s all sorts of sick fuckers in here. About a dozen of them. Across the room is a pretty Turkish girl so at least there’s something to glance at. Then, apart from a smart business lady who cant sit still in the seat beside me, everyone else is a mess. They’re the same people u see in bus stations, similarly waiting, tracksuited and obese. Right now their diet-related illnesses and pregnancies are stopping me from having my bursting appendix seen to.
The jittery business lady has sat back down beside me. This time she’s brought a urine sample and placed it teetering between our seats. What a filthy bastard. If that thing falls her piss is gonna go everywhere! Who does she thing she is? Dirty, dirty lady. I’ve a right mind to pull my trousers down and drop a shit in her handbag.
Hold up… the digiboard is flashing… I’m being summoned to Room 2…
