Monday 23 November 2009

Wheelchairs and Woe!






Woe! Woe! And Thrice Woe! The stubborn songbird hath returned with a vengeance (see previous posts.) I’ve just got back from the doctors, armed with another Canestan pessary, as the oral tablet I took on Saturday has not shifted the dratted bird from its nest. I’ve also been doing a little internet research on Candida Albicans (latin name for the bird) and it transpires that the ph of my private parts is of paramount importance in the ousting of this foe. Therefore, last night, armed with this new knowledge, I attempted to “flush the thrush” in a warm bath containing two cups of cider vinegar. It certainly seemed to soothe my parts. Thus, the husband has been duly despatched to Tesco to buy more stocks and also to procure some live yoghurt for me to eat to even up the score between the dreaded thrush and it’s somewhat friendlier companions. I’m led to believe that live yoghurt can also be liberally applied to the affected area, although I feel that this would be a rather more messy business.

The good news is that the period chart is now complete, with 12 consecutive missed periods. I am therefore officially post menopausal! I think I might throw a Post Menopausal Party. Well, why not? After all, people throw divorce parties, with Champagne, cake and all. Perhaps I could commission a cake in the shape of a giant uterus with frilly fallopian tubes, in an engaging shade of red. Or perhaps I will go into politics and stand for the Post Menopausal Party, after all, if you can have a Monster Raving Loony Party, why not a Post Menopausal Party? My constituency would, of course, have to be based in Wombwell and I would fight for the rights of all post menopausal people (men included.)

I’m still employed as a temp in the Wheelchair Unit of my local hospital and in the interests of furthering my knowledge, I just had to try out the new electric chair. No, not Old Smoky, but a motorised chair. You’d be amazed (said in a Frankie Howard voice) at how fast those wheelchairs can go and they can turn on a sixpence. I thoroughly enjoyed my few minutes of power, zipping up and down the corridors like Davros from Dr. Who. I could think of a few people I’d like to exterminate in the NHS, but I shan’t mention any names………………..or shall I? ;-)


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