Google the exploding doctor in Gibraltar
My nose is erupting
Something happened in Gibraltar and I need a doctor! There are places on a body where attachments are supposed to go and there are places where they definitely shouldn’t When I say attachment’s I am referring to an active volcano the size of Sweden that has erupted on the side of my nose. Now I don’t mind the odd zit or two but this is beyond a joke. It is not even squeezable. One minutes there was nothing, the next Vesuvius. If it grows much bigger I will have to put in an application for it to join the European Union. Then, no doubt it will be populated by Polish painters and decorators and soon after I will be crawling to Angela Merkel asking for a bailout loan. Anyway, I digress.
Visiting a Gibraltar hospital could kill you
When after two weeks it hadn’t gone away I had a word with my friend, Doctor Google. My advice is never to do this as you will find you have 497 incurable diseases and are liable to drop dead just after you have read this blog. The male thing to do here would be nothing. We real men know that these things just go, eventually. The trouble with me is I am a total wimp so off I went to Gibraltar Accident and Emergency department. Now I don’t mind waiting over four hours to be seen in normal circumstances but Dr Google said I didn’t have enough time left in my life to have a quick frolic under the sheets (38 seconds at the last count). I was just left alone in a packed waiting room looking at people who only thought they were ill because some limb or other had been severed or they had stopped breathing.
Doctor’s in Gibraltar are too young
Doctor, you look so young!
Eventually I was seen by not one but two very young attractive female doctors who looked and prodded my appendage and wasn’t sure what it was. Hundreds of thousands of pounds had been spent training doctor one and two to say “We are not sure”. Doctor Google was sure and according to him these well-trained doctors had three seconds to do something before I exploded like an atom bomb messing up the casualty department. I could see beads of sweat cascading from their brows as they deliberated. There answer was to quickly give me a referral letter to the local clinic in Gibraltar. I have no doubt in my mind that they thought I would be better exploding there than in a hospital.
After making enquiries I found you needed to be at the clinic for 0745 in the morning in order to get an appointment that would allow you to be seen sometime this year.
An appointment in a Gibraltar clinic …. in six years time
A few days later when I found I was still alive I went to the clinic which is in a three-storied shopping mall. I got there very early and was the first in the queue. Great I thought, this wasn’t going to take long. Unfortunately I had got the wrong clinic and by the time I found the right one a floor up I was 1324th in line. They even gave me one of those tickets you get at the meat counter in a supermarket which was pretty apt. The best bit was the ticket was not even to see a doctor. It was to see the receptionist. After six years of waiting the receptionist agreed with me that I was liable to explode and gave me a time to see the doctor. At least I now had an appointment which meant I could go away, sail around the world and still be back in time to read everything in the British Library before getting the chance to ask doctor why my head had exploded.
A light bulbs death is more important than my life
When I turned up at the designated time I had to get through yet another receptionist who told me to wait. They said it wouldn’t be too long but there was a delay as they had to change some fluorescent lights in the doctor’s room first. Come on, what was more important, my life or a light that had already lived out it’s existence and was now dead. I suppose if this doctor was as young as the ones in the Gibraltar hospital it would give her a few minutes to watch some “my little pony” cartoons.
Even the computer was telling me to order a shroud
When I got in the doctor asked me what was wrong. Presumably the wheel barrow I was using to carry my appendage wasn’t enough to give the game away. Just as I started to explain that Dr Google had consigned me to the afterlife her computer flashed onto the blue screen of death which I took to be an omen. That was it. Without her professional version of Dr Google she was lost. Either that or the cartoon had just finished. She didn’t even look at my appendage or notice that I had taken my clothes off and was dancing a Russian Cossack dance on the desk. In fact she looked at nothing apart from the blue screen in front of her. She was young, attractive and could have been the office cleaner for all the attention she paid me. What she did say was that she was going to write a letter to the hospital in Gibraltar to make an appointment for me. She also added that this may take a while as she didn’t know how to type on a blue screen. I was stuck in an eternal medical ground hog loop between the clinic and the hospital.
My nose is officially the eighth wonder of the world
So here I am two weeks down the line and still none the wiser. Now I could have typed my own letter, taken a slither of my appendage off on the local butcher’s bacon slicer, put them both in an envelope and dropped them at the hospital. I could have saved the health service of Gibraltar a fortune and myself a lot of time. They could have looked through their microscope, checked with Dr Google and found that if they had treated me earlier they could have saved my life and a lot of cleaning up after the explosion. As it is they may have left it a little late. My nose has now been classified as a world heritage site and we are making a few extra pounds from the tourists. Gibraltar are trying to deport me as my nose is bigger than their rock but that is not my fault, its the health services. So, if Dr Google says that the grim reaper is about to call make sure you are not in Gibraltar or if you are sign in as Mr Florescent Light. You will get seen sooner and the electricians probably know more than the doctors.
The surprise party in Gibraltar that wasn’t and then was.
The one good thing about all the waiting around is that in between times it was Angelina’s birthday. Well she actually had six but whose counting.
Last year we were in the middle of Biscay just bobbing about trying to find land when we celebrated her birthday. This year we were in Gibraltar which meant we had found some land and could celebrate it properly.
On the day of her birthday a couple of the girls from other boats had sent a message asking her to come to the bar for a drink. For some reason she thought they had organised a surprise party so got ready and went along smiling and giggling to herself. When she got there the girls were waiting with a bottle or two of wine. Angelina was looking round waiting for balloons to drop from the ceiling, the band to start playing and people to spring out from where they were hidden. No one did, it was just a drink. I knew that because I had arranged the surprise for on Cygnus III later that night.
When the evening came Angelina had decided to get into her PJ’s and we were going to watch a film or so she thought. Then people just appeared at the boat bearing gifts, food, and drink. All we were missing was the star above our floating stable and a donkey or two. We may have been missing a virgin as well but the look on her face made up for it. She could just not understand what was going on. We had a wonderful night and hopefully a birthday that Angelina will always remember.
Time to leave after a quick paint job.
Mark and Telfer
Gibraltar has changed in the last week. The winds and rain that has plagued us for the last month have gone and we are back in shorts and Tee shirts. It means we can actually get on with sorting Cygnus III out ready to leave for new horizons. As yet we have not been into the Med but it is just around the corner.I know because it took us five minutes to walk there. In another two to three weeks we should be moving on. In the meantime there is still a little bit of time left to practice the guitar and join in on the music nights here which always go down well. I was even thinking of painting my appendage tartan and pretending it was bagpipes. That is after I have checked with Doctor Google in Gibraltar of course.