I have a mole on the top of my shoulder at the back of my neck. I insisted that I would finally get it seen to as it has been itchy lately.
I made an appointment with the doc for 5pm and ran across the street in the driving freezing snow and sat in the Georgian drawing room that is my doctor’s waiting room. I was ten minutes early for the appointment.
I sat quietly and flicked through the People’s Friend magazine which is aimed at pensioners and blind or mad people to read. There is always a lovely wee watercolour of some Scottish landscape on the cover and loads of adverts for furry boots and novelty hot water bottles. It always features a short story about some middle aged pretty woman who is divorced and finds a swarthy man on Scafell pikes on a walking holiday. They end up in love and live in a cottage overlooking a lake.
I was quickly becoming brain dead…the clocked ticked loudly and everyone was getting taken before me into the doctors room and I was becoming impatient.
I am unable genetically to cope with waiting rooms. My mum was the same and my dad is even more tetchy about queues than me…I start bouncing off the walls if made to wait.
So I flicked through another Peoples Friend magazine and read about some other middle aged woman who met a dark handsome man on a painting retreat in Cornwall…for fucksake, who writes this shite? I flicked through recipes for scones and bakewell tarts and watched the clock hit 5.20pm.
I took three phone calls on my mobile and the receptionist came through and told me to turn the phone off!
“Look I am taking work calls and I should be out of here by now” I shouted back.
People tutted and I ignored them and read a recipe for a light Victoria sponge.
The clock hit 5.40pm and finally my name was called.
I jumped off the seat and ran to the door; the doctor was new to me. I have never seen this female before, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible.
I walked in and before she got to her desk I ripped off my scarf, pulled my jumper down and said “I have a mole, is it dangerous?”
She has this annoying habit of saying “Hmm Hmm” as you speak!
So I ignored her annoying tick and said “It’s been itchy” she said “Hmm Hmm” through my words.
“Ok you need to stop saying ‘Hmm Hmm’ every time I talk, please look at the mole” I snapped.
She looked at it and both of us was still standing as I didn’t want to sit down I had been there long enough for her to speak over me and as far as I was concerned that was fucking long enough.
“It’s not a melanoma…” she spoke.
I pulled on my scarf and said “Ok thanks bye” and left her room.
She came running after me “Would you like it frozen off?”
“It is dangerous or cancer?” I stopped in my tracks in the hallway.
“No” she answered.
“Then no, bye” I shouted as I walked into the frozen air as the door slammed behind me.
I was so annoyed at having to wait ages to get seen and all she could do was make noises as I spoke, I didn’t want a chit chat…no wonder she takes so bloody long with her patients.
I was raging with frustration at having to sit in that place for nearly an hour in that I went stir crazy. I stomped along the road and two young teenage Asian boys stopped me.
“Do you have cigarettes?” the taller one asked.
I was annoyed at being stopped in the cold “Yes I have loads in my bag, why?” I asked.
He looked at me in astonishment “Well can I have one?” he added.
I looked at him and his wee Asian friends all staring at me in anticipation.
“No” I said and walked off.
“You fucking whore!” he shouted.
“A whore with loads of cigarettes, get it right you fuck wit” I laughed and carried on home.
I may not have a cancerous mole, but this smoking may give me a cancer of a different kind.
I need to lighten up and stop being grumpy._