You know I said the slave was not well? Well today began with me ringing for an emergency appointment then frogmarching him to the Doctor. You see left to his own devices, he suffers from 'Suffer And Worry Those Around You Constantly About One’s Health But Avoid Going To The Dr At All Costs Syndrome'. It’s a common English disease, especially amongst the male populous. I blame it on us not winning the World Cup since 1966, and can only conclude it's some subconscious attempt to prove their masculinity to redress the balance.
Anyway, he staggered into the Dr this morning looking very unwell indeed, grey of pallor, breathless, and with what was obviously rather bad kidney pain. My parting words were that if they didn’t suggest one he was to ask for a diabetes test, and to get a flipping new inhaler.
He emerged again a few minutes later with referrals for an ECG and a diabetes test (neither of which he had to ask for), and a prescription for a new inhaler (ditto). The Doctor said the region he had said pain in was indeed his kidneys and seemed rather concerned, not giving N the impression that he thought he was wasting his time at all (no shit Sherlock).
Anyway, he is at least now going to prodded and poked to find out what’s going on with him. I’m glad he is getting checked out at least.
Some people need to be flipping well owned. All that hysterical online worry about slaves having limbs amputated by power-mad owners particularly makes me laugh as I am fairly certain that if N were to accidentally sever a limb he would try to look stoic and causally say 'Oh it's nothing to worry about, I'll just take some lemsip then I'm bound to grow a new one' as he looked for a mop to clean up the arterial blood gushing on the oak flooring before it stained.
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| 'Honestly, I'm fine Mistress. No problems here!' |
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