NB: Anyone who doesn't like doctory stuff please scroll right past, as I appear to have lost my capacity to manipulate the basic lj-cut. Apologies!
Maybe he's building a smokingboot golem that needs bodily fluids to be added in order to come to life and smash through the ancient walkways of Plumstead; every time I go in he wants a new sample so that he can add a dipstick to it and then stare at the colour code on the back of some plastic container. And it needs to be fresh too, the result being that I have to drink gallons before I go in then,every time I get to the surgery, the receptionist hands me a sample bottle and I have to dash to the loo straight away.The doc doesn't get that; he can't understand why a simple request for urine now is too much pressure for me. I just don't perform that way.
Anyhoooooo, blood fine, cervix fine,hormones ' all over the place as usual,' blood and pus in the urine so antibiotics, time goes by. Now time for a check to see if the blood and pus has gone... no,no it hasn't. More antibiotics as he voices his concern that they weren't able to grow a culture from the last sample - he says this like a man disappointed to have missed the rise of the Assyrian empire. Do things grow from pus? Does he mean the bacteria? Do they put samples in petri dishes and wait for the arrival of miniature moss or something? God, I am ignorant. He explains that if there's blood and no sign of infection, we may have to look at other possibilities. Then he says, 'Have you ever smoked?' And my mind goes blank at the implication. He tries to reassure me about kidney stones and lesions and scans, possibilities like that, but my head is full of Mark and I go home slightly freaked and do that most amazingly sensible thing; I check the internet.
Let us now join in a minute's silence for the death of my commonsense.
Then I pull myself together. This is just an infection,and it needs a bit more treatment. Another course of antibiotics, another 10 days and then... another sample for the golem. I almost feel sorry for it.

Maybe he's building a smokingboot golem that needs bodily fluids to be added in order to come to life and smash through the ancient walkways of Plumstead; every time I go in he wants a new sample so that he can add a dipstick to it and then stare at the colour code on the back of some plastic container. And it needs to be fresh too, the result being that I have to drink gallons before I go in then,every time I get to the surgery, the receptionist hands me a sample bottle and I have to dash to the loo straight away.The doc doesn't get that; he can't understand why a simple request for urine now is too much pressure for me. I just don't perform that way.
Anyhoooooo, blood fine, cervix fine,hormones ' all over the place as usual,' blood and pus in the urine so antibiotics, time goes by. Now time for a check to see if the blood and pus has gone... no,no it hasn't. More antibiotics as he voices his concern that they weren't able to grow a culture from the last sample - he says this like a man disappointed to have missed the rise of the Assyrian empire. Do things grow from pus? Does he mean the bacteria? Do they put samples in petri dishes and wait for the arrival of miniature moss or something? God, I am ignorant. He explains that if there's blood and no sign of infection, we may have to look at other possibilities. Then he says, 'Have you ever smoked?' And my mind goes blank at the implication. He tries to reassure me about kidney stones and lesions and scans, possibilities like that, but my head is full of Mark and I go home slightly freaked and do that most amazingly sensible thing; I check the internet.
Let us now join in a minute's silence for the death of my commonsense.
Then I pull myself together. This is just an infection,and it needs a bit more treatment. Another course of antibiotics, another 10 days and then... another sample for the golem. I almost feel sorry for it.
