Visits To The Doctor And Other Mishaps…

This weeks post will be short – I have allergies, the nasty kind. Coughing, bleary vision you name it. Of course my child who is 3.5 months old has picked up on this fact and has not slept properly since Friday!!

I am forced to reminisce about the times that I had to go to the Doctor… now, our doctor was an interesting creature, he came from the Netherlands and never spoke louder than a whisper. He always had freezing cold hands and firmly believed that patients had to wear those thin smock things where your butt sticks out the back. Even for a simple throat check! He was really sweet, I got away with taking home a furry bug toy thing or a sweet each visit till I was 18 

When I was twenty he moved back home to the Netherlands and I was forced to make use of a number of Doctors… one Doctor Barkley* (He looked like Colonel Saunders) felt the need to explain to me the inner workings of the sinus passages speaking as if he was battling to be heard over a Jet Engine, despite me telling him that I was there simply to renew a script for a sore back. Another, Doctor Govender* (He looked like Rajesh Kumar) gave me about six doses of antibiotics and injections and blood tests before he realised that I just needed antihistamines... yet another, Doctor Trent* (AKA Cyborg) saw me for exactly one minute to tell me that my blood tests were ok and then charged me R180 for a consultation… needless to say, I miss Doctor Anderson!

When I was about 11, my best friend at the time Elizabeth Parker and I were running up the tarmac at Chelsea by the pool and we fell. I am a big girl now but back then I was fondly named “Skinny malinki long legs” by chanting prepubescent boys because I was wafer thin and small… any way, I fell first. It was quite like a choreographed contemporary dance number actually, I landed on my chest and thought in an instant “I’m ok!!” that was until Elizabeth tripped on me and fell onto my head… we skidded for a little bit with her full weight on my head and my poor chin taking all of the weight and giving me a nice rip and tear for my trouble.

I ended up in the ‘sick room’ (remember those?) and had Mrs Watkins holding tissues to my face while my chin spurted blood (so cool!!) I was high on the thrill of having someone ride on my face across tarmac, so I was real chatty. When I get scared or I have to have an Op or whatever, I get funny, I crack jokes (I think if the people around me are laughing then I’m definitely not dying…) so Mrs Watkins ended up laughing, whew.

I landed at Dr Andersons, with my mother in hysterics and me cracking jokes and being a dumbass (I’ll admit it) 3 stitches later I was at home, on the couch with ice cream. Way to go.

Did anyone else go to Doc Anderson? His rooms were in Northway. Does anyone still have any of those tiny furry germ toys?

Well, I hope to be feeling better by next weeks post. I’m calling the chemist to drop off antihistamines and a chocolate!

Keep Well,


Sands x

*Names changed to protect identity…pthhh!!