So yesterday I got a proper schitting on from my gp.
I go to woolworths in the morning, park on one level then up a flight of stairs to the next level to the store.
I'm 3/4 up the stairs and suddenly severe chest pain hits, and I'm breathless.
I think to myself "fukk no, fresh produce is to the place to have a heart attack and die.
So back down the stairs and off to the car I go. Needless to say, 1st thing I do is light up a cigarette. 10 mins later I'm feeling fine again, so I go back home.
Around lunchtime I call the GP & tell her what happened.
*some context :: I was told if I so much as fart, I must get to hospital.
So there is silence on the other end of the phone.
"what's your blood pressure" she suddenly barks.
No pleasantries - she is bedonnered.
"actually no, don't bother" she says, and puts down the phone.
Oh well, I think to myself, and put down the phone. I grab something to drink and go fiddle around outside by the pool.
About 15 mins later I happen to glance back into the house and notice my housekeeper looking a little startled - like Bambi stuck on a freeway.
She looks at me, then looks towards the front door, then back at me and back at the front door - like an invisible tennis match is going on.
Next thing I see my gp storming in.
She is talking to, or barking at Harriet.
But the house has double glazing, so I can't hear a thing. But the gp's hair is flying everywhere as she is shaking her head.
She sees me and comes thundering in my direction, the sliding door flies open and she launches a tirade.
I stand there with a mouth full of teeth, a little bewildered, as she goes bananas.
"...and you ppl with a medical qualification are the worst to treat, expenentially so if the treatment you need is within your field of expertise", she carries on.
Hang on a sec - I say, wouldn't that include you, I bravely reply.
And then it came "unlike you, I probably have more than 6 months to live - which I estimate is your time remaining if you don't have the surgery".
I stand there in stunned silence as she realises what she had just said.
"I'm sorry" she says.
"sometimes things have to be said"
With that she storms off again, but unbeknown to her, my housekeeper closed the sliding glass door.
GP slams into the door and bounces back about 5m.
Before I can say anything she has gathered her composure and is gone.
I go inside - housekeeper looks at me shakes her head and walks off pretending to be busy with something else.
I make some coffee and light a smoke.
Harriet (housekeeper) comes flying at me with a wild-eyed look.
"Suga" she mutters, and with that, snatches the cigarette from my lips and grabs the packet from the counter top sliding door is opened so violently that the control for the air curtain pops off the wall. She storms to the pool and unceremoniously hurls my cigarettes into the pool, returns inside, glares at me and disappears.
I stand there shell shocked.
Next thing the phone rings, I look at the screen - it's the surgeon.
"this is going to be some day", I think to myself, before answering.
She says hello, and terribly politely tells me she has booked my admission to hospital for Friday and surgery on Monday. Call ends.
I've rescheduled tho - admission Monday, theatre on Wednesday.
Bypass + valve replacement.
