After this little exchange they obviously decided I was an awkward customer and decided to take some of my blood and check my weight. Now I will admit to being slightly rotund and my six-pack does bulge out slightly but come on… the scales were about 2mm away from the wall. I needed to stand at 45 degrees, leaning backwards, just to be able to stand on them. “Oh they are a little close to the wall, aren’t they”, said the nurse.
Get outta here.
She proceeded to prod and poke just about every part of my body and I was beginning to start thinking of excuses to beat a hasty retreat just in case she decided to get the rectal probes out or start checking out orifices. Luckily it didn’t go that far and I was allowed to leave with my anal virginity still intact!
The next week, I received a phone call to say that my blood results had come back and the glucose levels were really high. Could I come in for another blood test because they were that high it was probably the result of cross-contamination at the labs? Either that or, if my blood-glucose really was that high, I would probably be in a diabetic coma or dead.
I agreed to go for another blood-test on the condition that this wasn’t just an excuse to start invasions of any more body cavities. Jane – we were on first-name terms by now – the nurse, said that she just wanted some blood, no more, no less.
A week after having the second blood-test I was summoned to the dreaded doctor’s surgery again and told that my blood-glucose levels were a little high but not the alarming levels of the first test. So she gave me some jollop to help bring down my blood-glucose levels and was booked into a pre-diabetes information session.
Apparently “pre-diabetes” is when if you don’t start being a good boy and cut down on sugary cakes, drinks and foods then there is a good chance you will go on to develop diabetes. Nurse Jane said I was fifteen times more likely to develop diabetes than ordinary Joe, if I didn’t start looking after myself. So okay, I was converted. I will start being good just stop taking my blood and threatening me with flu-jabs and body-cavity inspections – I am still having the nightmares!
So last Wednesday night, I went along to the meeting of the food-sinners. There were about twenty of us and I am not saying we were a bunch of fatties but if we were queueing up for a Ryanair flight, the plane would never get off the ground. I will admit, I am 6’2” and I weigh around 25 stone – if I move the scales far enough away from the wall to allow me to stand on them that is. However, I felt positively dwarfed by half of the food-sinners.
So we were all sitting there on the – specially reinforced – chairs when in walked the dietician who was running the session. She was quite tall for a woman, probably about 5’10”, but weighed about 3 stone. She put us all to shame but at least Ryanair would let us on the plane with her around because she would balance the whole weight issue out.
It was at this point that I started noticing that some of the people in this group were a little strange. One guy never shut-up throughout the whole session. Another guy, no matter what the dietician said he had been there and done it first. Another woman had to leave early because her husband decided he had waited in the car park long enough so sat there with his hand on the car-horn.
The group was like a scene from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. Come to think of it, the dietician did bare an uncanny resemblance to Nurse Ratched. There was even an oriental looking guy who could have easily passed for a smaller version of the Red Indian Chief. All we needed now was Billy Bibbit and Randle McMurphy and we had a re-enactment on our hands.
I did have fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils – although I was a little surprised they trusted us with anything as sharp as a pencil. Crayons were probably out of the question, though, as someone would probably have tried to eat them. Nurse Ratched said that there were many more session on different subjects. All we had to do was put our names down for the ones we were interested in. The list was at the back of the room and we would receive a confirmation letter with the time and location in due course.
I thanked Nurse Ratched, returned my pencil and RAN to the car, avoiding the table at the rear of the room. Well, after all, she did say exercise was good for getting your weight down!