I screamed and screamed. I tried not to but if I’d stifled them I would just have burst into tears and that would never have done and so I just screamed some more. I gripped the hand of the nurse who held me down so tightly, it must’ve hurt her but she continued to hold me, as did J on the other side of me. A third nurse held my lower body down as best she could as I’d already tried to knee the Urologiste who was tearing my body apart. I looked at him and was sure I could see his lips curling into a sadistic smile and him saying softly, ‘and theees eez for all zee nasty theengs you ave been saying about zee French eeen your blog’.
I was just about to pass out when they decided I should experience the pain for a little longer and slapped an oxygen mask on me and then with a flourish, reminiscent of a great conductor ending a symphony, there was a loud pop and he cried ‘et voila – c’est finis’ and proceeded to milk the utter admiration of the two attendant nurses. As he strode towards the door to leave the treatment room, no doubt to rapturous applause from the other patients in the emergency waiting area, he turned to me and with a final sneer said, ‘and now you need to be circumcised’!
They say cleanliness is next to godliness but after yesterday, they can stuff it. I knew I should have been more careful when cleaning my ‘wee man’ and I knew as soon as I’d done it (details omitted for the squeamish) that something pretty awful had happened. I left it for a few hours but it got worse. The pain was excruciating, although in retrospect it was nothing compared to the trauma I was to face a day later. I spent a sleepless night trying not to roll onto my stomach and the next morning got onto the internet. The pictures of self-attempted fixes convinced me to get to the hospital asap and J kindly gave up her lunch date with the Tourrettes Ladies Shopping Group to take me.
This would be a good test of the French Health Service which I’d heard lots about. In 9 years down here (nearly 10) I’ve only been to the doctors twice for minor ailments and never to the hospital. Within 10 minutes I’d signed the admission forms and was ushered into a treatment room. A further 20 minutes passed and then a rather attractive lady doctor came into the room. I’d been desperately hoping for a male doctor to spare my blushes and the last thing I needed was any stimulation down there given my situation, but as is usual with doctors, she was very professional until she raised my gown. She then gave that sort of look which cross the faces of doctors or nurses when they see something which makes them want to scream, puke, run away to consult their journals or whatever. A succession of nurses and doctors (all female for some strange reason) came into the room to have a look and then left shaking their heads. My doctor then explained in English that she would put some anaesthetic on me (it) and as she prepared in the corner I desperately tried to see if I could spot the glint of a needle anywhere. I hate needles, especially down there. I was reassured however when she approached me with a large syringe contraption without a needle – result! As she squirted the anaesthetic on me some of it landed on the side of my face which she didn’t spot and as she proceeded to work away she kept asking me if there was any pain. Well, all I could utter was ‘gug, goop, blub’ as my mouth had stopped working. After about 5 minutes of ‘messing about’ without success she went off to get some ice packs which she put on me and said she’d be back in ten minutes. 30 minutes passed and she returned and removed the packs which had now melted and had made me look incontinent. She turned to me with her sexy brown eyes and said, ‘Monsieur Cupples, there is no need for further treatment. You now have frostbite and it will fall off of its own accord in due course’. Ha ha – her little joke! Another 10 minutes of fumbling and then the dreaded words – ‘I cannot fix this I will get the specialist’.
And so it came to pass that this denim clad, curly haired Urologiste entered the room and proceeded to inflict the most excruciating pain on me. I would have gladly confessed to being a Muslim bomber, a member of the Corsican break-away movement or an illegal immigrant if it would have had any effect but he was determined to show his prowess in front of his adoring colleagues and at the same time completely ruin mine!
Finally, can I add that me Julie did a wonderful job yesterday. Keeping me calm, running me around and basically looking after me. She held my hand and wiped my brow and was a tower of strength as I became a complete, shivering wreck. Even the words of encouragement to the Urologiste of, 'go on hurt the bastard, make him scream more, I took in jest. She was, I'm sure, making a joke to keep my spirits up.
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