Heavens I am feeling older than my years these days. If something new isn’t creaking or leaking on a daily basis, then it’s a bonus!
If I count up all my moans and groans (steady!) this past month, they have mounted up to more than I can count on one hand – but being a stubborn old moo I hadn’t until this week thought about have a waddle on down to the local quack’s office.
Had my fill of medical staff with 10 years service in the NHS, so I don’t actually like to take up their valuable time with random ailments, but now that this gaggle of malfunctions has reached epic proportions, I think its time I dragged my stubborn mule arse into town.
The moment you take your seat, and doc says “how are you today?”, and years of social conditioning sees your mouth opening with the obligatory “oh, I’m fine!” doh! I am tumbling the varying degrees of dodgy decrepitness around in my head, trying to fathom some logical order to relay my rag-bag of ailments without sounding like a raving hypochondriac looking for a dose of Dr Philomena Potamuss’ Magical Pygmy Potion.
All I want is a general MOT and a tune-up. Feeling TAT (tired all the time) and not being able to wake up properly is starting to be a pain in the proverbial, and having a bladder that goes into overdrive when one should be sleeping is a delight. Trust me, I’m under no illusions that I’ll ever be able to cough or laugh loudly again without first crossing my legs, or dropping to my knees! The manic tom cat hasn’t managed to trip me up (yet) this week, so the arm is slowly gaining strength (touch wood/fingers crossed – and legs), I’ve only choked severely twice this week so far, and haven’t yet hit the floor when coming over ‘all woozy like’. Hacking like a life-long chain-smoker (have never smoked), and trying to keep legs crossed to stem the flood-gates at the same time is quite an art in itself!
So, let’s hope I pass my MOT and get an extended warranty on this old rust-bucket that is my body. It’s got a fair few miles on the clock, but a good engine despite the knocking tappits, and leaky valves. Here’s to a pass with maybe a few advisories, but no major works or certificate of destruction!
Oh … bladder time!!