Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
Despite printed evidence and suspicious behaviour, Chris goes unrecognised…
They booked a precautionary CT scan for me as punishment
One of the strange things that come about through writing for a magazine occurred yesterday in the X-Ray department of our local hospital. Where else would I be?
I checked in, sat down and realised the man opposite me was reading My Weekly. I was staring at my own face and column across the room. Very appropriately for an X-Ray department, the column on display was entitled Battered And Bruised. Perfect!
So taken was I with this happy coincidence, I grabbed my phone to take a photo. Two things to note here. 1) I was taking a selfie while pointing the camera away from myself, which is unusual. 2) I was also inexplicably taking a photo of a random man in a hospital waiting room – also unusual. He certainly thought so.
My attempt to explain I was in his magazine only served to further confuse him. As he was a giant of a man, I was quite relieved when a nurse called his name and he walked away, glancing over his shoulder.
After grabbing his discarded My Weekly and taking a better photo, I went about sending it to a few unlucky people, one of them being my good friend Mia, under the caption Good choice of column for an X-Ray department!
Haha, brilliant! came her reply. Why are you in X-Ray?
Why indeed. Well, a little while ago I talked here about believing I was having a heart attack but had actually eaten too many puddings. The resulting visit to Cardio Emergency was particularly notable because their heartmonitoring machine was playing up, resulting in my spending most of the evening flat-lining while drinking cups of tea. The upshot of my wasting NHS time was the reason I was now at X-Ray – they’d booked a precautionary CT scan as punishment.
I answered Mia and was immediately led in for my scan, passing my giant nemesis, who whispered to a nurse and pointed directly at me. Great – I’d yet again earmarked myself as a cause for concern.
Changing into a hospital gown that covered no part of me at all, I received the jaunty welcome, “Well, that’s a nice little nothing you’re almost wearing!”
The nurse went on to explain CT scan procedure. In a nutshell, they pump you full of dye and beta blockers and stick you in a big radiation tunnel – if your heart doesn’t kill you, they will. I resisted the urge to leg it, mainly because of the shortcomings of the gown.
I’m glad I didn’t – the staff were great and the scan was fine, quite relaxing in fact.
Afterwards I discovered a number of complaining messages from Mia, mainly along the lines of I’m really grumpy–why didn’t you tell me you had a hearts care? but in far more offensive language.
Because it was in digestion! I replied. I’ d be contacting you to tell you I had wind.
There was a long pause, then, Don’ t ever do that please.
Fair enough.