Saturday, October 14, 2006

Zurich zays I am zick....


I made a mistake, yes I know I shouldn’t admit to it but I made a mistake. I went to London to meet up with my friend Paul, my financial adviser, and as all financial advisers he insisted we meet at the pub. So after a few pints he said, Mr E…you don’t smoke anymore…I have not seen you having a Marlboro for while what is going on?

I explained that my brother C called me one day last year and he mentioned that he was stopping smoking…so I did…but he didn’t…As a good financial adviser he advised me that I could cheaper life insurance because I am on a smoking rate at the moment…This was my mistake…

Before long I received a call up to go and see my Doctor and to be assessed… fine no worries as I am healthy as an ox…so lets go…

My doctor in London sent instructions to my doctor in the Cotswolds and with very clear instructions of what he wanted from me, nothing dangerous just the normal…”a morning sample” not necessarily in a sterile pot, so I thought that my Kodak 200 ISO film pot would do…

I sat with the doctor he checked, he poked and took 3 gallons (that is 13.6382756 litres) of blood to be analysed. This was not a problem, neither was the Kodak sample, problems started when he asked me to stand up to measure how tall I was…You see I am 2 Meters (6’6”) tall and his measuring stick only went to 1,90 (has to do with the average height of an Englishman, sort plonkers...). He stood on a chair (without health and safety knowing about it) with his desk ruler added the centimetres and got to the same height as I gave him 2 Meters…

Now for the weight the good Doc told me to stand on the scales and they topped 127 KG, and this is where the problem started…The insurance company wanted it in Stone and Pounds…So with the help of a wall chart for obesity we together worked it out to be 27 stones…That would give me a BMI of 40, at least, or it would make me 4 metres tall. Anyway we were in hurry so the good doc wrote it down on the form. Blood pressure was brilliant and I was perfectly fine until he asked…

Any serious illnesses in the family?

No not really…I said…My great grandmother Johanna ended up being 107 years old, worked the land and was in good health. My Grandmother Martha was 94…give and take…so longlivety is in the family it is in the genes…

OK said the doc…that doesn’t count what about your immediate family?

Well they are all OK…able, kicking you know…was my answer.

Any illnesses? The doc said…

Well now you mention it…My mother had a bypass operation at the age of 45 then again at 55. My dad had a stroke and is in a wheelchair. My older brother had a stroke and had part of his cerebellum removed but apart from his gout he is OK. My younger brother suffered from kidney failure at the age of 10 and my younger brother is taking steroids for his arthritis but apart from that there are no other heath problems…

The doctor looked at me and told me that this is serious…my family is not well and this will affect my insurance…

I looked in bewilderment and offered him the information that we once had a mongrel dog which was 17 years old and fathered at least 3 pups in the village…this, he did not accept as good health in the family…

So here I am in a dilemma…I am healthy, but my family history is not and now I am being punished…

Is this fair? Should I pay for the sins of my family…looks like it…

Can I charge my family for this?

What is that all about?

2 Comments:

Anonymous Red Flying Doctor said...

"Mmmm .." (a long drawn out utterance of deep, professional thought from this self-appointed doctor of philosophy).

Hereditary embolisms aside, is it really the time you started getting so stressed about the old ticker and body mass ratio Mr E?

As you know me quite well, this is not an easy announcement to make on your blog, rather than mine (even if I had one!). The thing is - I, not having quite reached the dizzying heights of your BMI, there is a quaint possibility that I may keel over long before you do. Whoever thinks that embolisms and myocardial infarctions occur in only those of the er, stockier in the species may be in for a shock. A shock in fact, like when they attach those table tennis bats to the thorax of a 'crashing' patient in hospital dramas, where one of the 'attendings' calls out "Clear!".. (You see? I know exactly what I'm talking about here since my wife insisted on watching ER every Wednesday night on Ch 4 when that dishy George Clooney was still playing Doctor Doug). THEN you get to know all the med lingo to the point that you can easily make a diagnosis on someone's propensity for diabetes or epilepsy or whatever might pop into a scriptwriter's head.

Listen good. There's no-one in that Swiss city beginning with a Z who hangs an iPod round their neck rather than a stethoscope that has a cat in Hells chance of diagnosing 'your' impending demise, let alone mine, so relax and live life to the full ..

By the way, what's cooking for tea tonight? Fish 'n' chips? We'll be right over!

Sunday, 15 October, 2006  
Anonymous reds in the beds said...

And one other thing, Mr E.

Why on earth have you chosen to upload a picture of wriggly sperm to accompany your blog?

Sunday, 15 October, 2006  

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