Run Dos, C Dos Run, Run DOS Run!

To borrow a turn of phrase from a friend, if you don't get that reference you need to get out less.


So this morning i woke to the call of chores and having to phone the doctor.

You see i still had my stitches in from my biopsy and mole removal. Now not only was this laziness but it was forgetfulness and very bad. But it's not like we have much money, and i'm not working. So it saved us in the long run, sort of. I wasn't exactly sick from them, yet...


I also had to help my dad with a few things.


I had porridge as he painted the edge's of the walls where a flower wallpaper was previously plastered. My mother had added it to the wall instead of all 4 walls being red. Why i don't know. But i kind of got the idea. But now she hates it even more than when it went up. She went so far as to call it common.

So, in a rare showing of action my dad actually followed orders and ripped it down and started painting. Now this could have something to do with my sister returning home, so what MOTHER says in terms of the look of the house has to be obeyed.




I then phoned the doctors and got a late appointment for 10 to four.


Then when that was done we, me my dad and mad dogs, had to move a bookshelf out of the way for painting.


We catagorised the books. A LOT of cookery books. Some older than myself. Some with stains of food older than myself sticking page's together. Dust with more back story than my very existance. Dust that has passed through at least 4 house's and 30 years to get on my hands and in the air and make me sneeze. Books that were wedding presents they are that old! Books that are rejects of the 70s and are a main influence why Meat Fondu is one of our family's favourite communal meals. (I remember loosing 5 euro on the insistance's that that was what a fondu was, ignorant to the fact that it even means melted cheese in french..)

A choice example of the sort of cook book on the shelf was, A guide to Garden Herbs, Or Blender Recipe's. Seriously, blender recipe's? Who knew you had to learn what to fuck into a blender?



Then on the next shelf was my dads books. Wood working books, IQ test books, information books. Dublin and Dubliners, a collection of essays on Dublin and it's people. And a lost map of Louth that my father miss placed circa when we moved here.

He was a slightly irate however. Several of the very very old and specialist woodwork books, re-sourced from amazon to replace old copies he had years ago were now chew toys. Their bindings long since deafecated by the puppies in the gravel yard out back. And the two little mutts just woddled about unaware of any wrong doing with muddy paw prints ruining the floor i mop infrequently with great urgency to make it appear like i actually do all my chores! The cheek!


We then moved onto the upper shelves. Assorted odd cuttlery, two sugur containers, oddly with sugar in them. And candle sticks shapped like funky drink glasses with burnt out Night Lights (Tea Lights) still in them.

Assorted old birthday cards, including strangely inapropriate "sweet" sixteen cards for myself that made refference to A Shag Bird, and how i wasn't going to get any. Some's up my teenage years right there....


Old baby photos and 2 choice photo's of my sister that show her with our first dog lucy, when she was a toddler and another when she was around 14 with a baby Thrush she rescued. That girl was born to be a Vetenary nurse!


We then moved the bookshelf into the pantry beside the dogs night time cage/kenel.  We stuffed the washing/ironing onto the lower shelf and tidied up the rubbish and recycling that was collecting.



Then we sat down to some computer updating.



As i mentioned before, my dad is down grading several 1,000 euro laptops from Vista to XP so he can control them more easily in his old schools network. ( I say old school, as he retired, but he still works for them since they never hired another IT teacher capable of running every computer in the school.)



So as i tinkered on the one laptop i have temporarily personalised i put in a usb key into the newly XP'ied laptops and changed their identities to the each number he wanted.

There was some trouble getting them to connect to the old network we still have here in the house.

Then my sister rang and my dad was on the phone for at least 10 minutes. Good blog reading time...


When he came back we had a shouting match of hypothosising of what the problem was. The problem was they couldn't find an IP adress because the server wasn't on. The network existed and the laptops, "mine", his (the super widescreen), the school one's and an ancient computer in the Garage could all talk to each other, but they had no IP Adress's. Strangely my dad, the IT and Technology teacher was initially stumped by this. I'm no expert but i quickly assumed you needed the server to tell the Transmitter what to do, and what to call each of the computers connecting, ie the "IP adress". From my limited knowledge of computing, it turns out i was pretty much right. The exact techinicalities are beyond me, but in essance i was right, and once the Server was turned on, it was all fine and dandy.


We XP'ied 10 laptops before i had to take a shower and dash out to do several tasks with my dad before my doctors appointment.


Showered, shaved. Hobo beards aren't good in public, no matter how rugged and Douche like you appear.


So out we went.


A Glass Glaziers first.


It was in a business park.

It wasn't well advertised so we had to drive past each of the "Plots" to see what business occupied them. I say plots, they were warehouse's of varrying size standing inside a terrible one way system of traffic in what was almost a ghost town from some angles.


We eventually found it.


The bollocks of shite rattled about Private and Public sector pay on Liveline was doing my tits in so i flicked the radio to Newstalk. No better. It was Moncrief, and something about suicide service's or some dreary shite. It was raining and murky out, i was in the car with my dad, who can be dull in a car at the best of times, this wasn't helping.


iPod earphone's in!

Didn't help.


Next stop a lamp store. Across the road from an Lidl and and an abandoned plot, adjacent to an abandonded plot that now had an "Australian Circus" in it.


As i sat there with "Dear Maria" by All Time low in my ears. I witness a horde of tracksuited youths nuckle dragg themselves across the car park of Lidl and across the wasteland towards the circus.

Then a minute or so later another one on his own came out onto the road with a Heavy lifting Trolley, the kind you see in homebase.


He just looked like he was going to knick something.

Then as my dad returned. Kids half the age of the others passed on our side of the road with a similar trolley and a stack of Wooden packaging crates. Yep it's Halloween, and it's Drogheda....



We went to yet another Retail Park around the corner, passed at least a few dozen acre's of abandoned large warehouse's and former factories or tech companies. Then into a uniformed grey business park with a large "WATER PARK" in its entrance. An indoor water park, inside a rather large Grey corrigated warehouse with odd windows here and there showing off rainbow platforms and twisty tube's and slide's.

The business my dad was looking for wasn't answering. The only "business" doing business in this god awful development was the water fun house thing.

Drogheda has some of the worst town planning imaginable. It was utterly appaling.


Then back to the lidl.

I sat and starred at the main Road that goes to the M1 but doesn't actually go onto it, and also goes back into town and the Bus Depot.

Coache's and traffic huddled by in the murkey overcast evening. I bopped about to the dying battery of my ipod as Immigrents and local yokels shoped.


We finished and head to the doctors.


While approaching the bus depot i saw a teen pushing a pram. She didn't exactly look enthusiastic....


The Doctors.


I spent most of my time waiting on my mobile, surfing on Opera Mini and Snaptu. Passing the time.


In the corner 2 toddler siblings played noisely with the toys. There mother in a pink velure tracksuit butting in every few minutes to shut them up.

Beside me a African family sat with a young girl standing beside her mother, sheepishly staring at the other children, waiting to get a chance to use the toys.

Her mother kept asking her to sit down in the seat beside me but she didn't. She stood there with her dread lockes, coloured plastic beads and sheepish face, waiting to play.


The two siblings coughed and spluttered all over the shop as the screamed and talked relative nonsense to each other and bounced around on their plastic chairs.

Then they started asking each other "do you have TICKULLLZ!!!" And then that started to get out of hand.

So angry and frustrated the Pink Tracksuited mother dragged the two out with her, either for a smoke brake or to refill the meter. It seemed like she had been called to the doctor, so the little African girl was over at the toys in a flash. Happy as larry when she found a Book on Tiger.


Then the other two returned but sat in a differnt place.

The second they came in, the floor was now their play space.

The boy instantly prosented the Door stop to his mother's face asking "what's this, what does it do?"

"put it back, Lulia get off the floor, get out from under der, yer gonna get all muckie, look here come's the doctor, the doctor's comin', he's gonna be cross with ya!"

They eventually went in.

The look of relief from the 2 OAP's tag-reading a newspaper and all it's supplements barely talking past idle celebrity gossip and tv schedule's, was priceless. They didn't really say anything but i could hear from their sighs and distain "Utter Disgrace" and so on.

Even the African Mother was relieved the terrible two were gone.


My dad then arrived in a sat with me. I had been waiting so long at this stage that he had had time to walk all the way down to West Street to the Pharmacy and back again with the perscription for my Rash (Lichen Pilanus, the rash's suspected name and diagnosis), a persciption i should have bought a week before my biopsy and mole removal, which was at the start of the month!



Finally in with the doctor.

It was the male doctor. Ie i had gone full circle over the summer after 5 appointments i had seen all the doctors, 3 of them female, 1 his wife, 1 a newbie. And now i was back with him again, after first showing him the rash 5 months ago.


The Stich on my Wrist had already snapped and all he had to do was pull it out.

The 3 on my chest were a bit harder, but standered snip and pull. They had stayed in so long the site's are a bit swallon, excoriated and scabby, but they're fine. I doubt it will leave much of a mark, but they will look like this for a while i bet. My own fault, but hey, it's not life threatening that i delayed. Not this time or for these stitches anyway.



Chit chat about failing my course and heading off to Oz. No health concerns, it's summer there soon and they got the Swine flu jab first, so all i have to worry about is putting sunscreen on EVERY day.


We got home and my dad and myself hurridly tidied up the computers, moved the books, cleaned the kitchen and started chopping onions and carrots for my mother's dinner within half an hour.

When she came in, she wasn't pushed about the stew and told the dad to put it in the lower shelf of the AGA. The Dad and I had Curly Chips and Burgers.



Thus ends my "riveting" day....


On Friday and Saturday i am attending the UCD IV with Ming as my teammate for the craic like. So i'll be AFK for a couple of days. I will loose this laptop to it's XP-ing also.


Expect some sort of word along the way. Keep an I on my facebook or twitter if you're really desperate to hear about my dull life and moderate prose.

Until next time, it's a good night from me, and it's a good night from him. Goodnight.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Snip Snip Mr Dullard

I apologise for the lack of bloggage, this will be excused latter. Right now i will chronicle monday and what happened to me on that day, or at least comment about it.



For the most part it was a wasted day. I got up around half 9 as is now my norm. And i sat down to my dads laptop and dawdled through the hours till about 11 or so when i cleaned the kitchen in full to make it look like i was actually doing the housework i was meant to be doing.


I had wanted to wake at 5am or whatever inhuman hour my parents wake is, and head into town and spend time with the society etc and do some judging and generally help out and "hang with my hommies". I really really really miss campus life and doing anything in particular.


If i had passed my assignment i would be on the wards in hospital. Slaving after people for free, learning minute amounts and generally doing something with my day, and or life.

Instead i've been watching tv on my dads laptop, with the widescreen tv showing bbc news 24 on mute, (so as to not miss the apocalypse or another source of the time) and generally looking after the house and feeding the dogs.

Last wednesday i even walked the dogs for about 10 kilometers just because i was bored! 10 KM! I was fucking knackered, and they slept for the rest of the day, poor little things.



But back to monday. My daily clean up was running late, and lazy. I caught Dexter, Family guy and other shows but slowly and mainly the morning was catching up on blogs.



I then had to go to the doctor. I had been last thursday for a consultation and i had learned what it actually was i had.

A skin condition thats a cousin of psoriasis called Lichen Planus.

Its a very mild thing and isnt actually all the serious, just a bitch.


So on monday i had to go into the doctor for a biopsy, and the removal of a "congenital mole" on my chest.



After the gruelling hours spent driving in with my father we eventually got there.

There is little to be said about drives with my father, but they can be very dull, nothing but talk radio, the odd idiological discussion, tid bits of philosophy, polotics and trivial facts, but usually one sided, uninteresting and generally arse numbingly boring.

I'm used to the 15-20 minutes we usually get between the train or bus to home, but an hour and 50 minutes heading into Dublin can be torture.

Drogheda, Dublin Road, Julianstown, M1, Drumcondra Road onto Griffith Avenue, Some random housing estate, The ballymun road and then all the way in and spitting back out again at Christ Church.

We decided going via the back of the city instead of across or through it would be best, so we went "home" to Rathfarnham. Damn it's changed. Well home is more Ballinteer but our old housing estate was so posh that it adressed itself as Rathfarnham solely because it was beside Marley Park.

We then went up the "green route" that passes behind our old estate to get onto the slip road that we thought went to Sandyford and the Private hospital.

We got there and we were met with no road signage and several exists on the roundabout. We saw two seperate tower block area's sticking up and we couldn't figure out which one it was. So we went ahead thinking we could still stay on this "slip road", big mistake.

We ran out of road and straight onto the M50. We went under the junction we thought was the right one and flew down the motorway for a couple of miles before we could turn back. It was so annoying.

And then when we got back the junction we got lost on turned out to be the right one, we could see a big green banner about 3 stories high hanging off an unfinnished apartment block advertising the very collection of buildings we wanted.

In time, just about.

Up to the day ward.

"You for Dr Foreigner, he's upstairs on the 3rd floor in the "Satalite day surgery" today" said the Clerk.

Despite directions for the day ward on the first floor from Dr Foreigner, oh well i guess he was bumped up.


Lifts, where are the shagging lifts, oh right, hidden around the corner with little signage.

Door wheres the door, Satalite Day Surgery anyone? Oh it's not signed it litterally is the first door here...

Another Clerk.

"I wouldn't know, it's through there."


Arrive at my destination with Father in tow, only one there.

A scrawny guy with glasses is tip tap tapping at his computer and tell's me he'll be with me in a minute.

I go through.

Clerk: "First time here?"

SD "yes, well no, i was here on thursday for a consultation."

Clerk "Okay." He turns and grabs a few forms slashes out sections with his pen and hands it to me.

I fill it out with aid of a note in my note book. As i hover to answer what my DOB is and so on he starts asking me them for another computer form.

Clerk: "Religion?"

SD: "Eh.. Agnostic..?"

And other information i won't share, but short and brief and generally annoying. Then with the forms signed i sit there for a couple of minutes as he types and prints and doesnt say a word. I twiddle my thumbs, my dad checks with me by mouthing through the open door if the date i asked the clerk for was the correct one. I just nod.


A random comment about the weather. "Yes it is rather warm today..." I say in reply, obviously caring very little about the predictable and silly small talk that came from nowhere after 2 minutes of silence as the clerk frustratingly filled out his forms and clicked in vein to get his printer to work when ordered to. It printed eventually...

Then i sat back in the weighting area.

An old man babbled about some old irish celeb from the radio with my dad, and also how his assistant is a pakistani but "i shout at him in japanese..." I smiled at the thought but was busy putting my wallet etc in my bag and handing my phone to my dad as he had left his at home.

I also noticed the tea trolley for hospitality was parked infront of the fire alarm circuits and controlls. Right ontop of some of the master switches at that, very safe...


Finally the nurse called me in.

As i entered the room the Dr Foreigner was there, it was all go now.

The nurse asked me where i was having the mole removed etc, my chest. And then the doctor looked at my rash.

Despite taking no medicine that day it was mild, but this was because it was late after noon and been sitting on my arse all day. It was at its weakest.

But he found one on my right inner arm that was good enough to rip up so he chose that one.

I took off my Jumper and T-shirt and lay back on the paper hygene cover of the opperatting table.

"Think happy thoughts, and it will be all be over before you know it." Said nurse 1.

"heh" i thought.

The over head light was moved into place and i waited.

The doctor scootched back to me on his stool and pulled a dressing trolley with his disposable cutting kit and some swabbing liquids.

"What gauge do you want doctor?"

Hmm i should have recognised all that dialogue, frankly i ignored most of it, even didnt hear what local i was getting.

"Now think happy thoughts, just lie back there and it'll all be over soon."


Hooo hoo hooo shooo shooo shoo. Deep Breath deep breath. There's a dent on the ceiling, OUCH OUCH OUCH, Pinchy feeling, pinchy feeling, deeper pinching feeling, breath, breath, breath, FUCK off with the patronising words, i know i'm doing fine, i have no happy place!, Breath, breath, Ooohh the Lamp looks like it's from Close encounters of the 3rd kind! Okay thats done.

Now the arm....

The the sheets go on. Sterile sheets. Damn my arms sore in this arkward position.

And i have to say its kind of embarrassing sitting here in front of 2 nurse's who aren't actually paying attention to me all to much, and yet i am fully aware that i have a stomach mike the Michelin man when i sit forward. Damn i need to get into shape, just so i don't have to have little dumpling rolls of fat when i have to bare all for strangers during a clinical procedure....

The Doctor starts to cut away at the mole and i flinch a bit but look up at the ceiling, breathing.

"Are you okay, do you feel anything?"

"No just the pressure and the movement, it's a little weird, but no pain." Exactly what i expect, and what they want to hear. And of course what i felt.

Then after a few bizarre tugs and chops the nurse is holding a mole, flesh and fermaldahide in a toxic waste cup inch's from my face "All gone".

LOVELY.


Then the doctor leaves for some reason, my arm is getting tired here!

Chit chat with the nurse's.

"well i was studying nursing until recently."

"I was in second year."

"no i was in my repeat year."

"it was an assignment on the outpatient care of a patient with hypertension, asthma and give him smoking cessation and weight loss advise."

Nurse 2 talked about how she did it as a mature student a few years back, but could never have passed if it wasn't for spell check.

And Nurse 1 did it back in 1991, that apparently tells me how old she is. But i don't care about the maths my arm is uncomfertable and i'm sitting here all moobs and Michelin man chest!

The stiches hurt for the mole, i had felt the pinch and pull as he closed the site where my little mole had been.

Now i worried it had been so long that my wrist would hurt more, "is this local really lasting this long" i thought in my head. I didn't doubt it though. The second the doctor was back he was at it again and it was all done. I'm biopsied.

He then asked about my Acne, and whether we, as in he, were going to do anything for it. I just said after all these years its actually pretty mild, i don't even manage it anymore. I get by fine and even with health insurance i wasn't going to let that guy do any more, or milk more money.

I had taken 3 course's of antibiotics in the passed without a cure. I knew that the last option was a dermatology only drug that had a major risk of a side affect that causes low moods, FUCK THAT SHIT!



I was all done. The dressings will be off in 48 hours, stitches in 10 days.

I love dressings. My favorite skill when i was doing nursing.

Out to the dad. All done.

He couldn't figure out my phone for some reason. Eh, it's the C button, it clears mistakes, YES there's 2 buttons there.... one C, one Red...


The Dad stops and asks the Clerk we talked to on our way in if we have to pay?

"I wouldn't know, this is cardiology, if he didn't stop you to ask for payment the i'd say just go?"

"Right dad, leggit!"


I knew it was on the insurance, but to stop and ask was just a bit silly.

Oh god, rush hour, heading north? 1hour 50 minutes just to get to the M1!!!

Snap Happy #10

I apologise for the lack of blogs.

Now i am fully aware that starting a post with such a statement is unofficially blog post death, as it shows you have nothing creative to say.

Well, i want it to actually be an apology.


My itch is rather annoying and doing anything more than sit still is unbearable as i am very irritable and antsy and so on.


I have actually just watched loads of dvds and things on the internet to pass my time.

When i should probably be studying the road theory test and handing in a CV for part time work in the local Change-of-management Londis.



But there is hope. I had intended for a Lisbon Treaty post over the weekend. This didn't happen, but it will this week, as time is slowly running out etc etc.


I also developed another analytical blog post idea. Bromance and Chivalry on Television and how its running away from Hollywood and ignoring the need for strong male role models. Or some shorter snappier title.

There's a lot in that one and it may require a lot of name checking etc, which could require actual blogging work, but it's something more to do. After all catching up on shows, wearing out my small DVD collection and making Train Networks in OpenTTD aren't the best ways to use my time. A good well written blog may be however.

So look forward to that, tomorrow, or later this evening considering the time.



For now Say hello to some stolen photos:




Hubble is now producing far more Pretty than before, GO TEAM!






This is also Pretty, its a water melon:



However, this is pwitty Kitty Awesome!



This is also:






Some Black and White Wonders:




















It's SO obvious, damn i never realised!




This sample of an artist is amazing, not just for the blood sucking red head, but for house too!



Dedication+ 9 Oil Drums x A Dream= Home Made Submarine!




Be Careful Dreaming in this bed!



Zombie Peanuts!!!!






And a nice little GIF of a crazy but brilliant goal:






Until Next time, Be good to each other.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

My itch, that i just can't scratch.

Now as some of my readers and people who know me may be aware i have a bit of a rash, and have had all summer.

Over the past few days it has flared up and has been rather unbearable.

Today i decided to go to the doctor to see if i could get this all sorted. This meant cancling on DS and our plan to see The Hurt Locker before he returned to Scotland. Which i felt rather bad about canceling last night but it had to be done.




This morning i woke up.

9 am or so, mothers voice, she was going out shopping.

The kind of conversation in the hall where my parents bump into each other and discuss everything openly with a back and forth.

Despite the acoustics in this house allowing for my music to remain in my room, my parents conversations be left in their room when the door is closed, or the tv to be unheard, again if the doors are closed.


The Kitchen and the dogs can be heard however if the tv room door is open, like it frequently can be if no one is in there such as the day time.


The corridor, all 10 or so metre's or more, is free reign however.


So parents natter back and forth,

"Oh "such and such" has to go to the doctor with his rash" Says the dad.

"oh right yeah, he usually see's "Female doctor whatserface".

"Yeah i think so, i have to call them this morning and make an appointment"


Here's me half asleep still trying to understand digital numbers telling me time on the phone when i hear a voice in my head.

"I've seen all the doctors, and i only remember the name of your one, i saw him last, make it him."

Alas i did not say this, i weant back to sleep.



10 am woken by The Dad and told i have an appointment with  "Female doctor whatserface" at ....11....


So i get up.

I give my disheveled self a look over, ooo no rash, no spots, ah but it's a tricky little prick like that, granted in two hours i'll be a poke-a-dot dress of spots.


So slap on minimalist "i'm sick, and at home" cloths and saunter down to the kitchen.

The doors are open, instantly in my dazed and groggy state i interject to The Dad that "so the dogs are out?"

"Yeah".

Not a why, not they shat all over the shop, not they were bold, not the floor is covered in spongy stuffing fluff (which it was), no just a "Yeah".



Breakfast. 4 slice's of toast and orange juice, fuck porridge, i'm groggy grumpy and grouch-like, too much effort.


The Dad re-enters and says: "there was also an appointment for 1030 but i didn;t think you'd be...(ready/up) in time."


"Right so" i said or thought. Slightly scoffing at the idea i couldn't get up in a hurry. Which i can, but couldn't be arsed to do right now.

A look at the faced clock, a few seconds and chews later i "clock" what the time is and it says 10.13 or so.


Pat Kenny had just started and they were blabbering on about the Lisbon treaty, and BANAMA legislation, all going woosh while at the same time stealing tid bits of whats said to strike one sided discussion's with The Dad (his sided, no real side but he'll talk about it at length anyway).


Right now, walk to the pantry, gingerly pull out some underwear from the growing pile of washing, all mine, and off to shower.


Shower.


Dry oneself, safe in the fact that the idea of my time of appointment is 11.30. (see earlier)


While drying my toes and balancing on one leg with the towel still wrapped around my waist i hear.

"Are you ready "Such and such"?"


"Eh... yeah... Just let me get dressed????"


Flummoxed i scurry to pull on my unironed underwear, hop over the half-never-used Lateral Tighe Trainer (that i dragged out with very good intentions of using it), T-shirt.

Comb hair in tiny square mirror on desk, to lazy to move uniforms off door frame of big antique wardrobe.

No shave, socks on, shite didn't cut nails. Still no spots.

Light jumper, light jumper, fuck only wooly ones left, wait, ah ha, grey featureless top, bingo!

Well worn, ie need to be washed jeans, and we're done.



Step out with still wet hair:

"I thought you said half eleven was my appointment?"

"I said half ten was the other appointment, your appointment is at TEN TO ELEVEN."

"but it's like half 10 now?"

"Yes, so hurry up".


I step outside.

"but i though it was at half eleven, i was getting ready for that time, i havent shaved."

"if it was at half eleven i would have gotten you up later than 10"

"But 10 give's me loads of time to get ready? Whats wrong with that"


And for reason we stopped there.  I was late because i had the wrong time, i would have still been running late if it was the time i thought it was because i would have been woken up later. The logic was beyond flawed, if there even was any.


Doctor. Straight in, only a couple of minutes late.

Still had to wait in Waiting room, as you do.


Two old men chatted away about the recession and so on.

Two kids and their mother played in the corner.

One of the old men left.

After a few minutes the old man piped up saying "they don't make prams like they used to!"

"You don't see many of them anymore, you could fit 3 kids or a bag a coal in the old ones."


Begorrah he's right, however claiming you don't see them anymore show's what a culchie he must be, HE'S NEVER BEEN TO Henry Street/Morre Street.




Doctor Whatserface calls me in.


Before we get down to business we share inquisitive "have we seen each other before looks".

I claim im not sure.

She then asks if it's okay that a guy who is visiting that want's to be a "General Practitioner" comes in to watch.



Hang on there for one second. He want's to be a GP. Surely that's something you decide DURING Medicine, not BEFORE. Anyhoo....



I said yes and referenced that as a Student Nurse i'm often that person sitting in the corner, so go right ahead.

In stepped an ageless young man with Navy blue hair, but a neat suit-jacket.


My instant thought was Indie-Nerd, but now i'm not sure. It's the Start of term, if he was a Transition year student what is he doing here on a Thursday?

If he's doing medicine he should still be comatose in a bedsit in San Diego? What the hell was this blue haired sadomasochist doing here?


Either way i had an itch to stop scratching, i put him at the back of my mind and started rolling up my sleves, taking off my shoes and Pulling up my t-shirt to explain the extremities my rash had reached on the previous days.


But like the nasty little bollocks it is, it wasn't there! It was only on my wrists with the odd dash here and there on all other body parts. THE BASTARD!


So with just a few spots to look at Doctor Whatserface was flummoxed.


She asked, while reading my history with the computer, "Do you have a family history of Skin conditions".


"Eh i wouldn't know, i'm adopted."

I said this so nonchalantly, and usually do that it made me think twice, how is that so easy to say?  But it is.


So with no evidence of its extremes and barely anything there she had nothing to go with.


Blood tests. I needed to give blood. She asked "have you had blood taken before". What a ridiculous question it seemed, i'm a human being who gets sick, i'm also a student nurse who has to be inoculated several times, and i encounter accidents several times.

"Eh yes, i've had needle sticks in the past etc."

"oh really".

"yeah they should have some blood in storage actually".

"oh really..."

"yeah as a precaution until the next time etc"

"in case of AIDS or so on."


My mind: Eh no, because i'm a clumsy bollocks, and get needle sticks, so as insurance they probably want to know if i had stuff in the past the next time i come in with something or if i get sick from it. Ye know time scale of infection etc, yeah AIDS but i'm thinking Hepatitis considering i now have an unexplained symptom that's ye know, bizarre.

I didn't say this however. My knowledge is week etc So i just said yes, and explained it was a precaution for when ever i need another test or became sick.


Right so she had no clue, off to the free blood clinic. And a two week wait. She however stipulated that she would "love" to see me when it's at it's worst.

Yes like i can schedule when i'm at my most itchy. It has been controlled all summer and this is the worst it's ever been. How can i forcast that??????


A 2 week wait for these bloods.

50 euro for 20 minutes or so, and no prescription. Fuck me i forgot to get a physical! And why can't she take bloods or other tests?


Dad Coughs up 50 quid and off i go with a biohazard lipped slip for the blood clinic.

I had to quiz her on where the hell it was as my Drogheda geography is ATROCIOUS! I know more about New York and LA than Drogheda!

Both her and Mr Blue hair were laughing at this, i hadn't a clue where i was going, that and she was seemingly pointing through the wall in the wrong way to the words she was using.....


Dad drive's us there anyway, only around a few corners and down the steep hills and it's a street i know well, just not it's name.



FREE BLOOD, TEST.



So in i step through this big Georgian style door. The steps have been ramped up to it, with a wheelchair gangway on the opposite side to where i climbed.

Still thinking it's a typical Georgian big door i raised my foot while walking through and my foot MET NOTHING. It dropped twice the normal distance to a Level floor with my still stationary left foot. I was DUPED! LIE'S I TELL YOU. It was still level and i was off balance..... Stupid door.


So up i roll to the Desk Clerk.

She says i'm right on time, she's never seen it this quiet. Those jinxed words.

I look to my right, oh wait, not a soul here!

And this is free right?

So she starts her chit chat, completes my form as Dr Whatserface left out my Date of birth, the S in my address and my sex...

She then asks about the weather, oh it's fine.

My arms itch like hell at this moment.

Then she mentions her dads cows are a foot deep in muck, and that it'll take a month for it to be dry and by then they'll have to go back in again, sure it's madness she tell's me.

I am far from amused, my arms are in so much itchy craziness that i want to dip them in Brillo pads!

Then i off handily mention, oh i'm a nurse, a student nurse, when the "Have you had your blood taken before?" question raise's its head again.

Then she mentions a Friend who missed out on 5 points on his LC who wanted to do nursing in dublin, oh they need more guys don't they, he got it in some place down in LetterKenny, probably Letterkenny i'm thinking, which is ye know, miles away, he's from Claire... but he wanted Dublin.

I just add, "yes they need more men, especially psych." This is my bog standard answer. I have to say it a every time i'm quizzed about Men and nursing, which is EVERY time i meet someone new. It's annoying at this stage.


My arms are killing me and finally i'm free to run away from mindless chit chat. From yet again what must have been an ageless secretary, so with an LC friend she had to be younger than the late twenties of my half arsed prejudice guesstimations, my itch was far to important. Hell she was actually begging for conversation, possibly also flirting, but i really couldn't have cared, i even show cased my arms a few times trying to speed things up, even though this was just a blood test....



So a plump Public Health Nurse with a Phlebotomy certificate was taking my blood.

I sit in a reclining chair for blood donation, unable to sit in it properly, because it's locked upright....

She once again ask's me "if i've had blood taken before"

"YES, I'm a nursing student, i'm well used to it, it's just the PINCH, ye know."

"oh your a nurse... Where are you studying"

"Dublin" Shit i meant Trinity, the usual answer. Not to late.

"oh and what college."

"Trinity"

"oh that's nice."

She then misread a instruction on the form and quizzed a fellow PHN/Retired nurse with a Phlebotomy certificate.... "What's CG?"

"Oh thats, i g love, it's a curved i."

Fucking Dr Whatserface's half arsed writing strikes again i guessed.


The pinch.  Deep breath, deep breath, squeeze chair arm, deep breath. Oh wait not that bad?

Hell she was milking me. 4 fecking vile's of the stuff, and only on the forth did she remove the Turneque to keep the flow going, talk about healthy veins, go me!



Then i was done. No charge and a 2 week wait.

Fuck sake, 2 weeks? Hell in MY hospital they get it done by the afternoon! I guess that's free services for you.....




Colonic and Coffee......



So we head down the town again, bizarrely looking for a 3rd parking space and closer to the Scotch Hall Monstrosity, so we can meet The Mother for a coffee.


My dad catche's the parking person when we park and esquire's if our still valid tickets from the past 2 locations could count. They didn't, the river is Port Authority not County Council, BASTARDS!

5 euro in the space of 40 minutes! FOR FECK SAKES!


The Mother isn't there yet. Right walk through the Monstrosity.


Usual gripes of, poor access, it SO should be a Cinema, and the river, it SO should be a promenade with café's and restaurants and stuff.

We say this all the time. This awful awful awful development is a blight on what is a pock marked town of failed developments. Drogheda is a mess when it comes to failed shopping center's.

Half the shops in the entrance alone are empty. One is a make shift creche with no interior installed!



The Mother Arrives.

The Dad does some strange cowboy stance greeting her thinking it's the funniest thing ever. I try to control him like I'M the parent, this however is pointless......


So we sit down to Muffin's, 2 latte's and a Hot chocolate. The hot Chocolate is mine, i don't like coffee, or tea.


MMM APPLE MUFFIN.


While waiting i point out a building on the river front to The Dad. I Say it's really nice, red brick, white brick, lion's on the top of plinths on either side.

I shift my view and notice that counters block the fact that a god awful green shop "Frontage" is on the ground level, ruining the building.

I mention this to The Dad. He concurs. He then mentions that it looks like the "frontier" style shops we saw in Australia. Grand front, with a shack at the back.



Then when The Mother returns with all the hot drinks. We all settle into a chat.

However the "this should be a promenade" conversation is old hat. My mother JUST has to talk about the Colonic she had that morning....

What she can't have and so. And how it's uncomfortable. I interject to The Dad several time's that you don't have to expand on these points, but he does anyway for his childish toilet humour ways.

"Oh i'm not supposed to have tea or coffee for a few hours, to give me a rest". As The Mother sips her Latte.


Right well one instruction failed.

"oh and no pork products for 2 weeks".

"Why's that?" Says The Dad.

"It's because red meats and so on are harder to digest, its something vegitarians sprout all the time, some of those meats never leave your system. So you'd expect some one from such a place to mention that as well."

"yeah, the last time the girl checked the content, this time she didn't. Strange that."

Thus insude groan's and bemoaning's of Gillian Mckeefe or what ever that bitch of the telly is called, and then a "reinactment" of one of the clichéd poo smelling scenes from The Dad. It was impossible to stop, i really tried....


Despite never looking at them the 2 Recesionista's to the right swung the odd look our way, i don't know what kind but i could tell it was some form of disaproval or scorn at a close nit family talking about shite in a café.


We then started talking about other things and The Dad and myself got stuck in the whole "Ireland is fucked with this recession" stuff.


And then The Mother pipes in with how The Sister is blessed being in Australia at the right time and so on.

Then we mention the bridesmaids.

One's working in an Art gallery for 80 euro a week just so she isn't on the dole.

The other, the trained actress, she's working for a cloths store in Tallaght.


And i just scoff "An Alex girl, working in Tallaght, a trained Gaiety actress at that, what's the world comming to!"



Then The Dad talks about some trainee Teacher he knows from his old school, a past pupil or something, who met some girl at a conferance who apparently said the following.


"Yeah i'm loike, meant to be going out tonight in the new beamer my daddy bought me, but i loike can't with the recession and all the girls can't afford it and i loike couldn't go out on my tobbler."

The guy ran a mile after that. Apparently. A northsider as well according to the context of the story, but The Dad tried to insist that he (the stories protagonist) knew nothing of south side accent's or inability to speak good... Like that mattered.


The Mother tried to say that people DO speak like that, even saying that I SPEAK like that, the focking cheek!

And then i continue with the laughing at the story and start to insist that she got that from THOSE books! And she think's their, like, real words!

But she's so stupid, Tobler doesn't mean OWN it means PHONE!!!

"No it doesn't" Says The Dad.

"Have you read them? He says "i'll give him a tobler". It means Phone not own, sheesh (or some such scoff), she can't even copy slang from a book let alone speak english."

Thus missing the point of the joke i had just been laughing at by tearing it apart and over analysing it...




Tenner to Shop, YAY!!!!


So the Parental units had to run other errands and get me the skin cream with the steroids.

So as i didn't want to be waiting around i'd have a mosey in HMV, Waterstone's etc.

I was walking off and i was called back, handed a ragged and fadded Tenner, happy day's!

I though this is at least 2 Seemingly unending HMV sale dvds or a book i've missed.


No such luck. HMV, here anyway, doesn't have a sale. And Waterstones, despite books i do want to buy, meant i could only get one thing.


But i was in better luck than i could hope for. Gamestop, 4 dvd's for a tenner, sold!


So there i was riffling through the pre-owned dvds and i just was in owe of the choice. Some nice titles that people had discarded.


Beatles music was playing. And it actually gave a nice atmosphere. I even sang along in my head to one or two ditty's because i knew of them.


Then i was in shock, Imagine was playing. WO WO WO, WTF, that is not a Beatle's song, i hate the Beatles, but that IS NOT a Beatle's song!

I turn to look at where it's comming from and the big plasma on the wall behind the counter is playing a trailer for Beatle's rock band and the CGI Liverpudlian's are mouthing out of sync to a song that only one of them ever sang.

Disgrace! I may hate the Beatle's as a modern spoilt brat, or any other crticism you may want to give, but i know their hits, i appreciate what they did for music but i wouldn't give a rats arse about listening to them openly, or even paying to do so. No i couldn't care less about the Beatles. But that's just MADE of WRONG!


I finally pick my dvds.


Fight Club Special Addition
Super Bad 2 Disc Extended Edition
Intermission
Down With Love


I stand at the counter while the Guy searches the disk drawer for the apropriate disks. The girl remarks that they "should play the Beatles more often, it brings in a crowd".

And sure enough despite the ENTIRE SHOPPING CENTER being dead quiet there were nearly 20 people looking at the games and dvds, from all walks of life.

one mother Disgusted at the idea that "all console's have their own games." Surely missing some point, and the fact that some do spread out....


Then Beside me a kid rocks up to the counter with a couple of Rock Band games for the Xbox all excited.


"Oh so you have rock band." Says the enthausiastic female Clerk.

"Yeah i just bought it today in Hmv for a Hundred and........(?)"

"Oh so, do you not want to get the Beatle's???" She says with a smile on her face and their 60s craziness/modern blandness blarring in the background.

"No, i don't like them." He said with a smile.


I smiled too as i recieved my dvds and walked away. The Make everyone happy, but some people just wouldnt actually listen to them, or be seen liking them!





Back up into the town, a screw up with the cream.

We have to get a perscription, lies!

The SAME chemist the day before offered it to my dad as a soloution as the steroid in it gives it that extra punch. He said no.

Dr Whatserface said it was over the counter.

Mere hours later it wasn't. So they had to fax the chemist in my name.

But it was closed for lunch.

49 cent red bull immitation drink from Dunnes store's to cool my now burning hands as i dance back and forth in agony like i had ants in my pants.


I'm irratible to say the least and i can't keep still.

The parents by a huge bag of Fish from the Fish Mongers and then call the Clinic for the Perscription.

I'm nearly dancing in the street trying to distract myself from the hell of my hands. Not much joy.

I then fed up with the indiscssion of what's happening now. I ask to go to the car to sit and wait. In the heat.....


I carry the fish back, and put them in the boot.


With the sun roof open, 3 windows half mast, and a slight breeze i manange.

But it's an hour or so i had to wait.

Joe Duffy and Moncreef are both spurten shite on a weekday afternoon and i've read the dvd covers twice.

I could have been in the cinema! I could have been eating a tonne of sneaked in popcorn and enjoying the last time i see a good freind till Christmas or January.

Instead i was sitting in a car, in the heat, scratching myself and twiddling my thumbs.


ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.

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