Because I am going exploring to far away places I need injections to make sure I don't die of anything piggy, birdy or mosquitoey. So today I went for my injections. I was told last week by a friendly nurse that I definitely would not need to pay for these. However, because the money god Plouton hates me when I'm poor, and at the minute I certainly am, I went armed with some plastic money just in case. I wasnt' surprised to hear then, that I was going to be the proud owner of £320 worth of dead virus but as I was fully expecting this U-turn, I smugly presented my card to the teen behind reception. My act of rebellion was swiftly thwarted by a viscious little 'cash only' sign. Realising I should have known better I put the card back in my pocket, apologised and made the journey across town to collect some cash. Balls.
Plouton had further trials planned for me too. I paid in cash and was quickly taken into an office by a delightful local Leeds nurse who made me feel special and at ease. Feeling the day then was taking an upturn I started to relax and feel much better about the world. My repose was lessened somewhat by a violent, repeated assault on all of my limbs which i'm sure in judicial circles would be describes as cruel and unusual. Handling this like a man, and ensuring I showed no signs of the discomfort I was currently experiencing, I promptly went blind and fainted. Fortunately or possibly unfortunately for me unconsciousness was fleeting and upon awakening, my blindness was shortly followed by a slowing of time and as I discovered later, profuse and unsightly sweating. The nurse and 3 other attractive women helping her lift to me said I looked very much like I might be dead, such was the severity of my palid complexion, pupil dilation and exceptionally low blood pressure. This wasn't altogether surprising as I felt like I'd been hit by an ice truck. A 'vagovasel reaction' (read episode) as I was later told is similar to fainting like a girl but its only for men of a certain fortitude and strength of character. This was according to the delightful and drastically astute nurse who up until that point had shown no unnecessary tact that would lead me to believe she was trying to make me feel better. Later consultation with a doctor friend of mine revealed that this is so low as to not be too uncommon for a flatlining patient to exhibit higher blood pressure than me. I also discovered that other common symtops include the total and swift evacuations of one's bowls. Not being scared of injections in the same way that I do not get sea sick, as no man should, and having experienced no pain during the involved injecting procedure, I can only put my reaction down to extreme thriftiness.
As my car was parked I had to leave their office 2 minutes after being resurrected. While I was running to avoid a ticket, still blind in one eye and mostly blind in the other, I received a call from Manchester City Council advising me that while I had paid a parking ticket 2 weeks ago, I had failed to notice that I had received two, and as a result of not paying for the first (which predated the latter by 15 minutes) they were going charging me a further £50 on top of the £25 I had paid already. I was sorely disappointed 2 minutes later to find that I did not black out again. As a result I have now discovered that I am not only very poor, but also a bit of a wimp.
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