This week I fell victim to what Long Suffering Wife cynically called ‘The Man Flu’. Ok, I’ll admit I wasn’t sick enough to be at Deaths’ Door, but I was definitely standing on Deaths’ Driveway admiring His flower beds.
Apparently I wasn’t alone, because every surgery I rang was solidly booked, and the earliest I could get in would be much later in the week. I eventually secured an appointment at the last surgery in town by bursting into tears over the phone.
I optimistically arrived half an hour early and spent the next two hours lingering about a packed waiting room, where I had plenty of time to reflect on what an aptly named room the Waiting Room is.
Eventually a weary Doctor called me in, gave me a quick once over, announced I had a bit of a cold, then ushered me straight back out the door where a sea of sick faces looked up in hopeful expectation.
At the chemists I waited in another long line of coughing, sneezing and ailing wretches. After the passing of three Ice Ages I finally reached the counter, and asked for the tablets I saw on tele which advertised a miracle cure for the common cold. On the ad, some languishing sufferer takes two pills, then instantly leaps to his feet, secures a high level corporate deal, then wins a foot race.
The chemist asked for my name, and while she tapped away on her computer, the old bloke behind me whispered, “They’re doing a check on you mate, to see how many times you’ve ordered those tablets, just in case you’re using them to make illegal drugs.”
I gawped at him, “Do I look like I’m on drugs?!” He took in my bloodshot eyes, runny nose, unkempt hair and shabby clothes, then moved back two places in the line. They gave me the tablets, which I waved in old mates’ face on my way out the door.
Back home I took the recommended dose and waited eagerly for the magic to happen. I eventually fell asleep and surfaced three hours later feeling marginally better. Four days later I’m still waiting, but with much less enthusiasm.
So, while we’re waiting for a genuine flu remedy, I hope someone in the meantime develops a ‘Man Flu’ tablet; which could be taken by cynical wives to make them believe you really are crook.