In order to be true to art ( and comedy is an art without the mess and the clean up job. Unless somebody wets themselves, then we are in trouble). I have to share a certain amount of embarrassing and private information - goo job I find things like that hilarious. Here we go:
An alternative title to this story could have been 34 years I've been living next door to Chucky, Chucky, Chucky who the fuck is Chucky? Much to my disgust, Chucky and I have been neighbours for years, the kind of neighbour you want to get rid of because of anti-social behaviour! I never went there for a bowl of sugar anyway.! There was never any danger of me having kids - ladies and gentlemen the universe decided I needed a pain in the hole and gave me a tumour on my lady parts.
I have 2 experiences with a gynaecologist and they are both hilarious. When I reached the age of 25, I was all sensible and started doing the smear thing. The tests kept coming back weird probably because of the NF2. So I had to see a gynaecologist. I had a sign language interpreter with me for the appointment. The doctor took a look under the bonnet and the first thing she says is "That's interesting" - not exactly what you want to hear when a gyno is staring down at your unmentionables.
The next thing she says Gods honest truth was" Can I take a Picture!!!" I had to sign a release and everything. They said it was for research purposes but I swear to God there is a hall of weird vagina pictures somewhere and min is on it!! I'm screwed if they ever start identifying people by their fanny imprint at crime scenes. Who ate all doughnuts? I see a strange shape in the sugar dust.
My next experience was nearly a decade later. I was 34 the year I tried to evict Chucky He started behaving like one of those neighbours the yobs that hang around outside the house drinking and swearing at the neighbours.
My 2nd run in with the gynaecologist was when I was an inpatient in hospital I had gone 3 days without a wash, so I had been pestering the nurses for one. At midday a nurse came around this is not as kinky as it sounds. She pulled the curtain around the bed and started taking my clothes off. I thought finally a wash! But then she started putting a theatre gown and socks on me! When I'm in hospital, I'm restricted to using a whiteboard for communication She wrote 3 things on the board, theatre, surgery and just a quick look. It was one of the nurses that don't really listen. I kept saying things like theatre surgery? nobody said anything like that to me and what's happening? With every question, she pointed back to the whiteboard. I kept telling her to stop what she was doing and explain what was happening. I had no luck so I gave up. When I go downstairs to pre theatre I was in such a frenzy trying to find out what was going on that the nurse said "I'll get the doctor to talk to you" When the doctor came out it turned out to be the gynaecologist who I hadn't met because it was a last minute thing. Nobody had mentioned anything about this to me. The doctor was all apologies nowadays I have visions of myself of being wheeled into theatre and my legs going skyward on the special gyno table! which sounds like another one of Mrs Browns stories. This was to take a biopsy so another alternative title to this story is Chucky's close shave!
I don't know what chucky looked like but it felt like having the death star dangling between my legs. Along with removing chucky the gyno suggested an uterine coil to stop my periods. I asked her to compare the size of chucky to a piece of fruit and she said a large orange or a grapefruit! And I've been sitting on that thing. So the next day when I was going into surgery I was singing I'm so excited and I just can't hide it I'm about to lose my shit and I think I like it! When I was on the table in the anastethics room I have a really bad singing voice from damaged vocal chords I sound like a bag of spanners in a washing machine on spin cycle. I sat up on my elbows and said to everyone in the room I'm sorry for your ears but this has to be done. I started singing Tho it hurts to cut away, it's impossible to stay. There's one thing I must say before you go. I loathe you, Bye bye chucky bye bye, so long tumour so long. When I finished I said I'm finished singing to my fanny, it's all yours. I lay back and thought of Ireland while the knocked me out. Yep I sang to my fanny in the anaesthics room.
I was delighted to wake up feeling like a shark had taken a bite out of my fanny. On the day I was being discharged I asked the nurse what it looked where they removed chucky. She took a look and said oh no chucky is still there I said what the hell did thy do down there? She said she would check the theatre notes in my file. When she came back I said to her, I think there's been some confusion. chucky is the tumour not my fanny!!
An alternative title to this story could have been 34 years I've been living next door to Chucky, Chucky, Chucky who the fuck is Chucky? Much to my disgust, Chucky and I have been neighbours for years, the kind of neighbour you want to get rid of because of anti-social behaviour! I never went there for a bowl of sugar anyway.! There was never any danger of me having kids - ladies and gentlemen the universe decided I needed a pain in the hole and gave me a tumour on my lady parts.
I have 2 experiences with a gynaecologist and they are both hilarious. When I reached the age of 25, I was all sensible and started doing the smear thing. The tests kept coming back weird probably because of the NF2. So I had to see a gynaecologist. I had a sign language interpreter with me for the appointment. The doctor took a look under the bonnet and the first thing she says is "That's interesting" - not exactly what you want to hear when a gyno is staring down at your unmentionables.
The next thing she says Gods honest truth was" Can I take a Picture!!!" I had to sign a release and everything. They said it was for research purposes but I swear to God there is a hall of weird vagina pictures somewhere and min is on it!! I'm screwed if they ever start identifying people by their fanny imprint at crime scenes. Who ate all doughnuts? I see a strange shape in the sugar dust.
My next experience was nearly a decade later. I was 34 the year I tried to evict Chucky He started behaving like one of those neighbours the yobs that hang around outside the house drinking and swearing at the neighbours.
My 2nd run in with the gynaecologist was when I was an inpatient in hospital I had gone 3 days without a wash, so I had been pestering the nurses for one. At midday a nurse came around this is not as kinky as it sounds. She pulled the curtain around the bed and started taking my clothes off. I thought finally a wash! But then she started putting a theatre gown and socks on me! When I'm in hospital, I'm restricted to using a whiteboard for communication She wrote 3 things on the board, theatre, surgery and just a quick look. It was one of the nurses that don't really listen. I kept saying things like theatre surgery? nobody said anything like that to me and what's happening? With every question, she pointed back to the whiteboard. I kept telling her to stop what she was doing and explain what was happening. I had no luck so I gave up. When I go downstairs to pre theatre I was in such a frenzy trying to find out what was going on that the nurse said "I'll get the doctor to talk to you" When the doctor came out it turned out to be the gynaecologist who I hadn't met because it was a last minute thing. Nobody had mentioned anything about this to me. The doctor was all apologies nowadays I have visions of myself of being wheeled into theatre and my legs going skyward on the special gyno table! which sounds like another one of Mrs Browns stories. This was to take a biopsy so another alternative title to this story is Chucky's close shave!
I don't know what chucky looked like but it felt like having the death star dangling between my legs. Along with removing chucky the gyno suggested an uterine coil to stop my periods. I asked her to compare the size of chucky to a piece of fruit and she said a large orange or a grapefruit! And I've been sitting on that thing. So the next day when I was going into surgery I was singing I'm so excited and I just can't hide it I'm about to lose my shit and I think I like it! When I was on the table in the anastethics room I have a really bad singing voice from damaged vocal chords I sound like a bag of spanners in a washing machine on spin cycle. I sat up on my elbows and said to everyone in the room I'm sorry for your ears but this has to be done. I started singing Tho it hurts to cut away, it's impossible to stay. There's one thing I must say before you go. I loathe you, Bye bye chucky bye bye, so long tumour so long. When I finished I said I'm finished singing to my fanny, it's all yours. I lay back and thought of Ireland while the knocked me out. Yep I sang to my fanny in the anaesthics room.
I was delighted to wake up feeling like a shark had taken a bite out of my fanny. On the day I was being discharged I asked the nurse what it looked where they removed chucky. She took a look and said oh no chucky is still there I said what the hell did thy do down there? She said she would check the theatre notes in my file. When she came back I said to her, I think there's been some confusion. chucky is the tumour not my fanny!!
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