Tuesday, August 02, 2005

022: PRESTON GHETTO
MEDICAL CENTER

As y'all may or may not know I live in Preston. Not exactly one of Melbourne's more prestigious suburbs. In fact some might say it's less than prestigious. Others might say it's just downright skanky.

As a resident of Preston, I typically avail myself of all of it's facilities. It's public toilets are there for the junkies, it's footy oval is there for the crack whores and the car parks are there for the greasy, acne ridden homies.

This morning I found out that the medical clinic was for the trailer trash.

Having screwed up my back somehow on the weekend, I made an appointment to see our local doctor. My family have seen this doctor many times before. We call her the 'Witch Doctor'.
I dont believe she's ever been to medical school.

Anyway I walk into the waiting room this morning for my 10:00am appointment. The door opens and the horror is revealed.
Children crawling all over the floor. Two fat ladies with blue hair coughing and splutering in the corner. One of them spits a wad of yellowish phlegm onto the already dirty tiled floor.
A toothless, stringy haired, drug fucked single mother taking a drag on her ciggie while her little buck toothed child, Jamie, plays at her feet.

"Jamie!! I told you not to touch that!!!! Don't make me take my belt off!!"

I cautiosly approach the desk and speak to a kindly looking young indian woman (with the worst una-brow I've ever seen). All eyes are on me at the moment, I'm wearing a leather jacket in a sea of flannel.

"I have an appointment for ten o'clock"

"Well the doctor is on her own at the moment, so it should be about ten minutes"

Okay. So I sit and wait. Ten minutes cant be so bad. I read about Madonna's wedding in an oh-so-recent New Weekly, and update myself on Britney's antics in 2002. A baby cries. Two muslim ladies point and stare at me.

After 11 minutes, I sheepishly approach Unabrow at reception.

"I'm sorry Mister Jimmy" she begins in her broken english, "But the doctor is running late and it may be two or three hours before she gets to you"

"...But cant you just slot me in, I'll be quick. I'm sure I've only pulled a muscle!"

"The Doctor has already been indicted for prescribing incorrect medication, she doesnt want any more trouble"

Great. The Witch Doctor is in trouble with the law. It's a bout bloody time. But where does that leave me. Undiagnosed and with mo more time to spare, I stormed out.

Let this be a lesson:
If I want a medical certificate when I have the flu, I'll phone four hours ahead and go to the Preston Medical Center.

If I want actual medical care, I'll head down to the hospital and wait there.

To quote Homer Simpson "That's not America!!! That's not even Mexico!!"



the end.



2 Comments:

Blogger Lollie_Pop said...

awwww sweetheart... sounds like you've had a hard-run this morning. Sometimes all there is to do is pray that you'll die in your sleep :)
However take solace that "Witch Dr" will hopefully mis-diagnose Osama, the little receptionist's una-brow will cut off the circulation to her brain and as for stringy haired crack whore-mom... karma has already worked it's magic there :)

1:57 PM  
Blogger Slim said...

See?? This is why I love you :-)

2:52 PM  

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