Blood Money

My Body's Not Bad for a 60 year old

Now my body’s not too bad for a sixty year old. I don’t mean the shape which seems a bit top heavy, but its condition. I’ve had a few problems some of which were hereditary (Hay Fever, Asthma) and some which were self inflicted (smashed knee (skiing) and bad ear (swimming in a polluted Med)). But in general terms I’ve been remarkably lucky, considering I was born in a part of Glasgow which has the lowest male expectancy in Europe – all of 57 years!

In the 12 years I’ve lived out here, apart from a couple of emergencies, I’ve only been to the doctor’s about three times, preferring to let nature take its course which it invariably does, but last week was different.

It started on Saturday night when I leant over in bed and there was a pain under my ribcage. The following morning, I could hardly move but seemed to recall that I’d had a similar problem a couple of years previously and that it had ‘fixed itself’ within a day or so and I resolved, once again, to let nature take its course.

On Sunday night however, I was in agony, so much so that my caring wife moved down into the Studio so she could get a decent night’s sleep but she did give me some Ibuprofen for the pain before she disappeared.

Still convinced that my pain was temporary I researched the internet and came to the conclusion that my symptoms (stomach spasms, pain in the ribcage, indigestion etc) meant that I had Acid Reflux or GERD ( Gastroesophageal reflux disease). Strangely, I was quite heartened by this and by Tuesday night, after refusing J’s offer of a trip to the doctor, I was improving and had 1 glass of wine with dinner – my appetite hadn’t been affected!

Well, on Wednesday night I was literally screaming in pain and on Thursday J booked me into the doctor’s and despite the fact that during the day I was virtually OK, I decided to go and see this marvel called Yolandea (Dutch female doctor).

When I eventually found her surgery, I had wandered straight into her consulting room by mistake (luckily it was a male patient – and he wasn’t bending over!), but on entering the waiting room it was all a bit surreal, not only were J and Kitty sitting there but my neighbour Tan also! Talk about a small world!

Anyway, unlike our village doctor, Dr Fang, who over a period of 12 years had never said anything more than ‘wot wong wiv you Misser Evans?’ (long story), Yolandea actually asked me about my family history and my own health record before asking what my symptoms were and then examining me.

Finally, she said that it sounded like I had gall stones and asked that I go for a blood analysis and an ultrasound scan, both of which were booked for Tuesday as Monday was a holiday. All very efficient this French Health Service.

Thankfully - Not my Ultrasound

Now during this period, Shadow had started showing similar symptoms to those he had last year when he was diagnosed as having a Thyroid problem so he was booked into the vet’s.

On the Tuesday I gave my blood sample and later had my ultrasound which fortunately showed that my stomach is as healthy as any other eastern Glaswegian who has a life expectancy of 57 (seriously – it was clear) and then it was onto the vets for Shadow’s blood test.   

Now both Shadow and I are awaiting our blood test results but hear this – the bill for my blood test and full analysis and my ultrasound performed by a specialist, including a full explanation of my insides, totaled 78 euros. Shadow’s blood test was ………. 91 euros! How come?

PS – I got my results back. It says I am overweight, I have to eat more roughage, I have to apply Vaseline to my dry, scabby nose and I need to be de-wormed. Unfortunately, I did all this for the following few days before I realized I’d mistakenly been reading Shadow’s results  and prescribed treatment!