Bloody hell, what time is it? Ten o’clock, way too early to be awake quite frankly. I feel around in the bed and realise that Tutu, my loving wife who works as a nurse, has already gone to work and yep you guessed it, I went back to sleep and have missed my shift at S.H.I.T. Yeah, I know, fancy working for shit but it actually stands for South Harbor Institute of Technology where I do a bit of casual work. I betta ring in.

Ring, ring, “Good morning, South Harbor Institute of Technology, this is Cheryl” comes the reply. Now Cheryl is one of those people that are always chirpy and happy, don’t ya just hate them.

“Hey Cheryl, it’s Hung, I’m sick, can I speak to the day supervisors please” I request knowing that this will cause some folk some form of discomfort.

“You, sick Hung, amazing” says Cheryl “but did you know Hung that today is Friday and you only get sick on Mondays”. Good point, for 10 am in the morning this girl is sharp, “Putting you through, bye Hungsie”

“Day supervisor, John speaking” Oh my God, of all people to be on duty it just happens to be the supervisor from hell, John. You know the type, know everything, never has a day off, gets there early and leaves late, don’t you just hate them types.

“Hey John, it’s Hung and I’m sick” Gales of laughter roar down the phone line and I can hear John talking to someone in the background. “Hey Tony, guess who’s sick, Hung” I hear him say as more gales of laughter erupt.

“Hung it’s Friday, you only get sick on Mondays. What’s wrong today?” John mocks.

 

Oh shit, um, er, crikey that one came out of left field. “Ah, um, headache” I lie.

 “Wouldn’t be because it’s Us verses Them down at the G, would it?” snarls John.

That’s right, the cricket game is on later and I’m a little upset with John’s attitude. “Well if you really wanna know I slept in, er, um, with a headache.”

Again John talks to his fellow supervisor “Hey Tony, Hung slept in and wait for it, with a headache” much more laughter erupts but the mirth and merriment of the supervision team is a bit overwhelming so I sign off “See ya Monday”. John is sobbing now from all the laughter and I can just imagine Tony rolling on the floor.

“See you Monday, Hung, not very likely, Bhawwahahahahahahaha.” Click.

Whew, tough one, now to get a doctors appointment. My GP is Dr Carl Tondraught, we all call him Dr Carl for short. See the docs dad was a brewer, Carl hates beer and went and did medicine and then one day his dad sold everything off and gave Carl a swag of money, so Carl just works a few mornings a week around the corner from me.

Ring, ring “Hello, Dr Tondraughts rooms, Nancy speaking.” Now Nancy is an enigma, mid sixties, beautiful and very smart. Nancy didn’t tolerate fools and has a rapier wit. At first Nancy would cut me down with some classic words like “Gee Hung, you found us, did Tutu hold your hand” etc., etc but after awhile she gave up when she realised that most of it went over my head.

“Hey Nancy it’s Hung, I’m sick” I say rather insipidly.

“But Hung, it’s Friday and you only get sick on Mondays” informs Nancy. Gee, sleeping in has become a headache, oh, yeah, that’s right I have a headache.

“I have a headache Nancy, can I see Dr Carl?” I plead.

“Well, at 10:15 he can see you” I look at the clock and it’s 10:14, boy this is the last time I get sick on a Friday.

“Come in Hung” says Dr Carl “How can I help you?”

“I’m sick Dr Carl…”

“On Friday!! But shush Hung. Now with changes to Medicare I have to spend 10 minutes with you so don’t rush it” informs Dr Carl.

Wow, 10 minutes with Dr Carl, how am I going to do that I wonder.

Dr Carl keeps looking at his watch “1 down 9 to go” he states.

“We could talk about sport” I suggest.

“Football, union, league, rules, basketball, golf oh yeah” smiles Dr Carl.

“What about cricket?” I prompt.

“Cricket” shrieks Dr Carl “Nobody in their right mind likes cricket. Totally boring, nothing ever happens and if it does it simply wakes the audience out of their slumber. The blokes go to drink beer and the girls go to get ogled, no thanks.”

Dr Carl starts pacing around the room, hands behind his back, his white coat flapping in the breeze of his rapid movements. “Well done Hung, 4 minutes to go, now symptom list please” says Dr Carl.

“Um, headache, red eyes, sore throat, persistent cough, runny nose, blurred vision, central chest pain, nausea, diarrhea, bloating, difficulty in passing urine, bilateral knee pain and swollen feet” I reply rather slowly.

“Good boy Hung, that leaves 2 minutes to go. Now let me think” Dr Carl types all this into the computer then suddenly cries out “I’ve got it Hung, you’re suffering from Medical Condition, here’s your sick note”

“But Dr Carl, is Medical Condition fatal?” I plead.

“Oh, most certainly, when are you going to die, who knows” says Dr Carl.

I limp home, my ego damaged, I going to die sometime, woe is me but look I want to get down the pub and watch the game on the big screen with the boys and have a few beers. So on the way home I buy some flowers, chocolate and the ingredients for Tutu’s favorite meal, Chicken Casserole.

I prepare the casserole and put it in the oven with the automatic timer on, arrange the flowers and leave the chocolate where it can be easily noticed. I vacuum the house, fold and put away the washing, clean the bathroom and water the garden. Gee, what a boy has to do.

Tutu comes in through the door, I greet her with a big hug and many kisses. “How come you’re not at work?” Tutu interrogates.

“I’m sick with Medical Condition and Dr Carl says I’m going to die” I whimper trying to look forlorn.

“BS Hung, all doctors write that on certificates to protect your privacy anyway you only get sick on Mondays” replies Tutu. Bloody women, how did she know that. I thought I might have been able to milk the Medical Condition at least until Tuesday.

Tutu notices the flowers and chocolate. She looks in the oven and sees the casserole and walks around the house to see everything is neat and tidy. “There’s a game on isn’t there Hung” she says. Bloody women, how did she know that. “And you want to go down the pub and watch it on the big screen with the boys and sink a few beers, oh Hung, you are incorrigible.”

“I love you Tutu”

“Be off” she says with a big grin.

For the record we won. And to all those guys out there, the way to a woman’s heart is flowers, chocolate and Chicken Casserole. Sadly, on Monday my Medical Condition returned and had to sleep all day, oh well, someone’s gotta do it.

First published: https://hungsworld.wordpress.com/2015/03/05/call-the-doctor-im-sick/