A doctor stepped into a bank.
The waiting room was filled with patients and as he approached the receptionist’s desk, he noticed that the receptionist was a rather large, unfriendly woman who looked far too much like a Sumo wrestler for his liking.
Shame, so little Jessica is sick for the first real time in her life, with a good and proper ear, nose and throat infection. She started showing symptoms on Monday, and although our own thermometers didn’t indicate a fever (which have now shown to be rather inaccurate and thus actually quite useless), our little darling was wheezing away, exhibiting shallow breathing, being very congested, releasing lots of yellow snot (the colour is what makes it an indication of sickness by the way) and of course just being in lots and lots of discomfort with the heart-breaking big crocodile tears.
An elderly gentleman goes in for his annual check-up. The doctor finishes his examination and then beckons to the old man to join his wife who had accompanied him, back at his desk.
I don’t do doctors. Much to Chantelle’s chagrin of course. I really only drag myself there if I absolutely, absolutely have to – and even then that seldom happens! Of course this does mean that I don’t yet have a house doctor here in Gordon’s Bay, despite having lived in the town for almost two years now!
I despise going to the doctor or hospital, simple as that. I always leave it right until I am half dead and absolutely have to go, and then usually only at the bequest of my loved ones.