believe it or not, i do start every month and indeed every year wondering exactly what it is i will find to update this blog with. i really should not stress all that much as something always happens and indeed something always turns up. like, for instance, the incredible sense of pain i experienced on Tuesday, my self diagnosis and the subsequent healing technique applied by my unofficial medical consultant. let me take you on the long, hopefully interesting journey that led me to the experience of medical molestation off of Stefan.
on Tuesday of this week, specifically the afternoon, i felt a sudden surge of pain. it was limited to my left upper arm and shoulder, with a touch of it present in my neck. i was quitely confident that this was probably a result of my lunch choices for the week up until that point causing some indigestion, heartburn and the like.
to illustrate, via the magic of my blueberry phone, here is lunch from Monday....
....and this would be the lunch i had on Tuesday......
now, the medical benefits of KFC are grand without question. it is the food, after all, that is the choice of The King, Elvis Presley, and why would he eat something that was bad for him? that said, twice in two days might have been a bit much for my arteries and that.
i recalled from my vast medical knowledge, that being all comments made by The Man In The Pub, Britain's Most Ill-Informed Columnist in Viz, that sometimes pains in the left-hand side of your body could be a sign of one of them stroke or heart attack things looming. with this being the case i decided to sleep on the matter and vowed that in the morning i would drop my unofficial medical advisor a mail to see if he had any thoughts on the subject.
it came to pass, then, that on Wednesday i did indeed drop young Stefan a mail, giving him a broad outline of the problem and mentioned the stroke or heart attack warning sign thing. his advice was swift, indicating that it was "most unusual" for someone about to have a heart attack or stroke to be able to get away with the symptoms for 24 hours and then mail someone about it. nonetheless, he did agree to pop up and see what the story was, to see if he couldn't get whatever was wrong mended.
yes, for some peculiar reason my dear friend Khanyisile decided to join in with the medical attention thing. for some reason she thought standing in front of me might help sort it all out.
that, too, is also me offering Stefan a cigarette. we have a bit of an agreement in regards of cigarettes, really. if Stefan agrees to find reasons for any of my ills that do not feature suggesting that cigarettes might not be helping then i agree to do something that does not involve punching him in the face. it has thus far been a healthy and good working agreement. it is Stefan's outlandish ideas and wild claims that smoking might be bad for you which prevent him, alas, from ever taking the title of being my offical medical advisor. did Tom Hagen ever turn to Don Vito and say "we should not do this, it is illegal"? no, he found a way around it. Stefan must learn this kind of thinking before he can be an official part of my entourage.
on that note, other than my rubbish blueberry pictures, you may be pleased to note that the pictures here were taken by both my personal photographer, Trigger, and my chief mechanic, Jayson. it is good to see that Jayson is expanding the scope of what he does in my entourage a bit.
moving on, and as any good medical practicioner would do, Stefan first calculated and worked out of my shoulders exactly which was the left one that was so troublesome.
with that established, he soon determined that the muscles in the shoulder were somewhat trapped and in general totally knackered. he thus decided that the best way to fix it was to batter the flipping heck out of it with some good, solid molestation. the application of some of that voltaren gel made it perfectly legit medical molestation, though. so Stefan tells me.
he did seem to be rather enjoying it, though.
that is quite a smile Stefan has on his face as he is doing this, isn't it? i must say i have not endured any sort of physical assault like this in the work place since my dear friend Fraser left. it should, however, be made clear that the assualts Fraser made were seldom for beneficial medical purposes. it was rather more along the lines of "prison shower style" resolving of problems in its approach, although he never got around to saying exactly what the problem was.
my, Stefan really does look like he enjoys doing this sort of thing, does he not? looking at the above, i think he would look really good with one of those pencil thin, adult film star style "sex moustache" things. i will suggest it to him in the morning, or perhaps he will read this and grow one anyway.
the happy ending, so to speak, to all of this is that Stefan left my left shoulder bits feeling much, much better and appears to have removed the potential threat of one of them stroke or heart attack things.
good work, Stefan!
my shoulder is pretty much fine now, bar the odd twinge when i sneeze or every now and then reach for a cigarette. it is, with thanks to Stefan and his efforts, rather bearable pain, something that one can work around with relative ease.
i have given Stefan full permission to use these images in any sort of textbook he decides to publish, and indeed agreed to let him include uncensored versions of these pictures on his CV if he believes it will be beneficial.
should there be any need to, and by that i imagine something feels a bit like something that The Man In The Pub out of Viz mentioned, i will drop Stefan a mail in regards of future medical issues and do my best to give an account of the ways in which he uses it as an excuse to touch me up here.
many thanks for reading.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nice one mate. I'm still aghast at the fact thay you have an 'entourage'! Is it like the one The Dude had? :)
ReplyDeleteit's more of the kind of entourage that The King, Elvis Presley had and indeed probably still has. sadly at this stage i am not in a position to, like The King did/does, buy my entourage new Cadillacs as and when they please me.
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