vendredi 5 septembre 2003

The Condition: the wait's over! At the end of what has mainly been a sod of a week, I remembered that I hadn't looked at my e-mail for a couple of days and even managed a dozen replies. Nothing went back to the spammers at Plump your Lips except perhaps a raspberry award for one which fell into the rare category of a previously unsighted variant on the double-the-size nonsense. To get to their site, you need to click on a link which enjoys a remarkable what-the-hell's-that? URL: "http://sobriety.bannersexchange.info/home-p.html" (don't bother, it's just a back door to wallets which should know better). zzz On other body bits, I finally have some news. The long-awaited appointment with Dr V., the tummy specialist, was lengthy and productive. And after a holiday, he was better at explaining complex medical terminology in layman's terms. He doesn't want me back in the operating theatre, not yet anyway. But only now do I learn that after weeks of telling people that the Condition isn't Crohn's Disease, despite many matching symptoms, the man said he still can't completely rule that out, though it hasn't shown up on the tests and probes to date. It's not that I want Crohn's Disease, of course, but at this point almost any diagnosis is better than remaining in the dark. To get one, I'm to begin another battery of tests in several different hospitals. I was reassured by Dr V.'s insistence that I take each of the prescriptions concerned to particular experts in their field, whose names and roles he told me. "If we don't get a definitive diagnosis from this lot," he said, "I'll be astounded!" So there we are. Progress! In timely fashion, an e-mail from Jean-Claude points me to an interesting article from the Beeb. "One truly amazing wireless device [displayed at a Las Vegas conference last year] was the M2A Camera Pill by Given Imaging. "A patient swallows the pill, and it takes two pictures per second for six hours. The images are transmitted to a recorder on a belt. "The pill is used to examine the inside of the small intestine to diagnose such disorders as irritable bowel syndrome, Crohn's disease and iron-deficiency anaemia. Before the pill camera, exploratory surgery was required," Kevin Anderson reported in a BBC Business story. I won't be getting a camera pill myself, but J.-C. also kindly sent me a link to a recent Karl Minns column in 'Evening News24' of Norwich. Thanks for another welcome reminder that even some of the most grisly subjects are best tackled with a sense of humour. I try not to let it show, but mine has been wearing thin. And I'm still getting used to the post-summer return of the twice-daily slow-setting jam of internal combustion engines from one end of a long street to the other. How I regret having disposed of some very stale eggs by taking them down to the trash! From four floors up, they could be very effective hurtling down on the tin-can roof of the next impatient bastard who honks directly underneath my window. Most of them don't need the bloody cars in the first place. One day, I'll do it. I swear. 10:08:21 PM  link   your views? [] Of Dr Melinda and other 'accidents' Doctor Melinda. She was delectable enough to make even the lovely Wildcat jealous, almost (I should be so lucky...) Melinda B.'s but a memory now, from one of those tales that come into the category: one misadventure was unfortunate, two were carelessness, three were stupidity. I speak of thumps and cuts I have received in the Métro. The first time I should have seen the mugging coming, but I hadn't been in Paris long enough then to notice the warning signs. It left no lasting damage. But years later, bolstered by success in a previous such venture (and by alcohol-induced bravado), I decided to be knight in shining armour to an elderly lady who was being mugged herself as the few other people around played the three-monkey game. What I hadn't spotted that time was the mugger's accomplice, who must have been lurking just round a corner in the tunnel. The elderly woman ended up shaken but unscathed and calling the fire brigade, which is the most sensible thing to do here, before the police. And I came to my senses in one of the sapeurs-pompiers' red ambulances, klaxon wailing over my head and the fireman who gave me the first aid wanting to talk about bloody football... Melinda B. came for a chat at around two in the morning. An Australian intern, she was the doctor who had patched up a minor stab wound in my abdomen and a much more serious injury to my leg, which bears the long scar to this day. It really was a "chat" she wanted, as well as checking up on me in the single room they'd given me at Léopold Bellan, a hospital close to my flat. I was the excitement of an otherwise fairly quiet night. She was a little homesick, delighted to treat a native English-speaking emergency, and accepted my dinner invitation. I went briefly crazy about the pretty, auburn-haired Aussie when she took off the long white coat to reveal a pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with I forget what provocative declaration printed on it ... and put on her roller-blades. Twice we went out together and she sped off on the blades for the night shift afterwards back at a time when that mode of transport was new to the French capital. Unconventional. Very. That was, and hopefully still is, Doctor Melinda... I think of her tonight because I'm a wee bit apprehensive about what may come of the meeting with the specialist in about 18 hours' time. I'd rather he doesn't decide that my tummy needs opening again, but this time rather more deeply than last and on an operating table, not in a squalid corridor. But my mind also turns back to that episode because something disgusting has just appeared on French newstands and having thoroughly enjoyed it myself, the least I can do is share. The mystery picture is part of one in the September issue of 'L'Echo des Savanes'. I have trimmed and tweaked it with the superb Graphic Converter (Lemke Software), but only in one respect. The rest is not for the front page, be warned! If you're squeamish or easily shocked, you're best advised to steer well clear of some scanned photos from of the most disgustingly funny articles to have come my way this year. (A translation of the key bits is generously provided on the story page). 12:25:43 AM  link   your views? []

nick b. 2007 do share, don't steal, please credit under artistic licence terms; contributing friends (pix, other work) retain their rights.