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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Just gimme the darn drugs!

Yesterday, I ended up calling my sis, Annoying Married Chick in the hope that she would leave work and come to my rescue.

“Hey Sis! I need you to come over and take me to the doctors.

“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know. I have some kind of fever.”

“You mean you aren’t going to work?”

“Er hello…I just said I had a fever.”

“Yeah, but you can still talk and you can obviously see well enough dial numbers on the phone. I suggest you take some Alagbon and head to work.”

“I’m too ill to go to work. I’m literally burning up.”

“I’m only telling you to go in for your own good. Nigerian employers are not like UK ones. You had better be on a drip with a note from your doctor saying you have a 10% chance of making it through the night before you call your HR department to say you’re not coming in. You’re better off going in and passing out in the middle of the office, so they can send you home.”

“Not gonna happen. Are you going to take me to the doctors or not?”



Did that Malu just hang up on me? I don’t know why I thought she would be helpful in the first place.

I eventually had to convince my mother that dosing me with drugs without getting me checked out first was tantamount to murder and a family meeting will be held as soon as they discovered she had a hand in my death. I think the thought of having the great unwashed from the village in her pristine living room was more disturbing to her than the fact that I was about to croak. So she relented and bundled me into the car in my pyjamas with her debit card. Relieved Tony from his shoe stretching duties and sent us off to the hospital. It wasn’t till we were half way there that I realized that I wasn’t wearing a bra (Before you judge me, who the hell sleeps in a bra?). Ok, do I go home and get a bra but risk being waylaid by mother who, having calculated how much this is going to cost her, is now having second thoughts or do I cross my hands over my bad boys and hope no one notices? I chose option B. I was in too much pain to really care if I took someone’s eye out with a boob while being treated.

At last, the nice, clean clinic where they are just waiting to dish out excellent medical attention to my poor, sick, self.

Whoops! What the hell? I just almost fell over a guy writhing in the doorway in agony.

"Oh God! Sir are you ok?"

“Good morning madam. Please ignore him. He's debit card has been rejected and he's just heading to the ATM. How can we help you?” says the over pimped up nurse at reception.

Not casting any aspersions on her medical capabilities but I don’t want to be treated by someone who looks like they just rolled out of a Pimps and Hookers party. It's amazing there’s any make up left in the whole of West Africa with the amount she had on but my life is in her hands so I will say nothing and pray that I get out of here alive.

"But Nurse, are you sure he should be going anywhere? He can't even walk. Can't you treat him before he dies or something?"

"Madam please don't worry yourself. Its just appendicitis. His abdomen isn't that distended yet so he has plenty of time to get to the ATM and back before it explodes. You hear that Mr.Kolajaiye? Take your time o but make sure u crawl there on your back if you can't stand up. So you don't puncture it on the gravel outside.We will be here waiting for you. So how can I help you ma?"

Ok Mena. We're not going to freak out. Your head is about to explode so we don't have time to find another clinic.

“I need to see the doctor please.”

“That will be N13,000 to see the doctor”

13 wetin? Do these people know its not pay day yet? Oh yeah, forgot. This one’s on mum. Might just get me a nose job whilst I’m here.

“Ok. That’s fine.”

“Will you be requiring a consultation?”

“Er…Obviously. I thought that’s what the N13,000 was for?”

“No that’s just to see the doctor.”

“I don’t get it. So I am paying N13,000 just to see the doctor. He won’t examine me, he’ll just see me?

“Yes “she says looking at me like I’m the one talking crazy not her.

“Why? Where exactly is the logic in me paying N13,000 for him to stare at me? Does he have x-ray vision or something? Hang on a sec. Is this some pimped up Marabout of international fame’s office?” I ask, looking around for gourds and peacock feathers.

“Look madam I don’t know what you are talking about. All I am saying is the appointment to see the doctor is N13, 000 and to examine you is an extra N15, 000.”

“OK! In order not to lose my sanity lets just agree that you require me to pay N28, 000 in total to be examined and treated by the doctor?”

“No, if you need him to actually treat you after the consultation, then that will be an additional N15,000 plus whatever the cost of your medication comes to.”

“I give up. Just swipe the blinking debit card and give me some drugs.”

20 minutes later I’m sitting in front of a bespectacled midget whose office smells like crayfish. I have nothing against little people but is this clinic being run by the circus? There’s crazy Tallulah, the clown, downstairs ripping people off and now Tiny Tim here (who seems a tad too interested in my unfettered assets) is attempting to cop a feel under the pretext of examining me.

“Madam please take off your top and bra, I want to take your temperature.”

“Why do you need me to take off my clothes to take my temperature? My mouths up here.”

“Madam, I find it more effective to place the thermometer under the breast to take a temperature reading.”

And I find it more effective to pat down guys in the trouser region on a first date to save all parties concerned unnecessary anguish in the future. Do I actually get to do this? No! because it’s apparently not politically correct or sane.

“I’m sorry, being the hypochondriac that I am, I have been examined by some of the best doctors in the world and I have NEVER, EVER had my temperature taken in that fashion.”

“I believe I am the one with the medical degree madam, so please take off your top and lie down.”

Now he wants me lie down as well? Why don’t I just dim the lights and play some Marvin Gaye on my Blackberry. Pervo.

“So hang on a second, what do you do if it’s a mans temperature you are taking? Seeing as they obviously don’t have breasts?”

This question seems to have him stumped.

“You know what, while you’re thinking of a suitable answer to my question, please take my temperature the normal way and give me some friggin drugs. Please.”

Prat. After stealing N43k off me you want a get freebie grope as well abi? E no go happen.

40 minutes later I was off home in a drug induced daze. I can’t remember anything after that but I woke up in my own bed and I feel almost like myself. Maybe I might even go to work today. Yeah right! Gee, I crack myself up sometimes.

1 comment:

The experiences of an achiever....... said...

Menalicious!! you have to be making this stuff up!!! U're imagination knows no boundaries..Mama Mena was right on! lol!! thermometer under ze breasts!! wharraheck??? roflol!!