Thursday, 4 September 2008

Quickie Update

Just got back from Ninewells for my appointment with the endocrine fella, who was supposed to check out my lump. To begin with he wasn't there, so my history was taken by the most terrified 4th year student I've ever seen. I was tempted to say:

"Look, I'm no doctor, but the first thing they teach anyone in a medical field - even blimmin' massage - is to create an aura of confidence. You're about as confident as a field mouse facing a feral tabby."

I then reeled off a list of symptoms with as many medical terms as I could remember - at which his pen hand, I kid thee not, went from mildly quivering to a full-on shake. I was wildly entertained - until the specialist remained AWOL for 35 minutes and I was stuck with the quivering fool staring at me, gulping, saying "I really don't know what else to ask you. Is there ... er ... anything you think you should tell me?"

I thought carefully.

"I'm not a big fan of the cock," I said - just to see what colour he'd go.

Unfortunately, that's not true. Anyway, the specialist eventually rocked up and we chatted briefly.

"And ... er ... why have they sent you to me?" he said, in a not very encouraging way. "I deal with the endocrine system."

"Possibly because I have a thyroglossal cyst?" I hedged. Christ ... do I have to do everything myself? I thought. I'm not hugely keen on self-diagnosis, but if he asks me to whack out a scalpel, I'm outta here.

"Oh, all right," he shrugged amenably, and proceeded to poke my neck with a stick. Upon finding said lump, he gave a porcine snort and crowed:

"That's tiny!"

"Yes, but it's what you do with it that counts," I retorted, inexplicably narked.

"Waha," he chortled. "Wa-hahaha. Well, I'm not going to do anything to it. Cutting it out would probably do more harm than good, and would just give you a bloody great scar. You're booked in for an ultrasound anyway, so get it checked out - but my recommendation is just to forget about it."

Just forget about it. Good lord, why didn't I think of that?

So, while there's no need to be alarmed any more, I'm still no closer to figuring out what's wrong with my throat, or why my voice is a bit croaky and weak. The antacids I've been prescribed have done no good. However - the ENT appointment stands, so I've got until the beginning of October to see if things improve, and for the ultrasound department to have a peek at the lump and say "that's tiny" in tones of contempt.

Now leave me alone. I have stuff to learn for my massage tutorial and it won't get done rabbiting away to you lot.