Into the dark corridoor

Imagine a Gynecologist. One of those freaky seedy ones that have their molesty fingers and monstrous gleaming teeth.

Lips curled into a sneer as droplets of salivation drip from his lips to land on a stained poorly buttoned shirt. Definitely one of those guys with their thin hair combed back in a pitiful attempt to cover the sign of early balding. Don’t even get me started on his shoes, all black and shiny. Almost as if they had some sort of cleaning disorder, and spent their Friday nights in front of the fireplace in a rickety old rocking chair. Rocking back and forth.Polishing and Polishing.

Rock.Rock.

Polish. Polish.

Then there was his eyes, wide and bloodshot. Tiny blue hued circles engulfed by widening black pupils. Sags and bags would underline his sunken eyes, whose eyelash length rivaled that of Madonna.

His tall, lanky build made his footsteps seem like he was stalking, always stalking, with long wide light footsteps. Creeping behind you, and lurking behind every corner, hiding behind a chart attached to cold, hard plastic.

“Welcome my dear…”

He would say in a hissed tone, I swear I detected hints of lust, or perhaps he was just hungry. I wouldn’t blame him, he surely looked like he was missing a feed.

I gave him a slight nod and entered into his musty smelling room, light by a single flickering light bulb. I gulped and sat down in a dusty chair, just when was his last patient? 1970? I’d guess 1970, by looking at the faded picture of a kombi van behind him. A dismal attempt to brighten up the place.

He sat in his own, overstuffed chair, its dirtied filling spilling out over split seams. I assume it used to be white. Emphasis on used to be white. Now it was an off grey, almost black. With every slight movement he made, fleck of what I hoped to be dirt would flake off. Although, I swear I saw some of these ‘flecks’ take flight, fleeing the room through the small crack in the air vent high up on the wall. If only my escape were that easy.

My eyes lowered to the name on his desk. ‘Dr Ventura.’ Interesting name, reminds me of Ace Ventura, although if I recall Ace Ventura was a bright friendly chap. The complete opposite of this Troll-like being.

“Now my dear….we have your test results….”

He began, tapping a pen on his desk, giving me a hungry smile. Definitely hungry. I was tempted to pull out the gum that had been wedged in my pocket for the past few days and throw at him, then whilst he was distracted I could perhaps make my getaway. I sighed, and waited for him to continue.

Tick, Tick, Tick

A full two minutes passed before he continued, was that silence on purpose? Or did he fall into some sort of a micro sleep? Surely he’d be old enough to have waltzed with the dinosaurs.

“You will need…a….how shall I say this…Laparoscopy…” he grinned again, followed by a wink. I did not know the intention of a wink. But. I know what Laparoscopy is.Surgery.

Again.

I gave a nod followed by a wave of my hand, signaling that I didn’t’ really care, nor was I phased by this news.

I think I heard Dr. Ventura growl, he clearly felt the stabbing agony of defeat. Perhaps he fed off of fear? Off of worry? My apathetic reaction surely did not please him.

I giggled, the tides had turned. I leaned forward, hands on desk as I flicked a stray cockroach away from me. “Goodbye Dr…” I sneered, as I backed away, and left his dismal office. As his door shut behind me I heard his anguished cry, followed by loud bangs. He was angry, maddened by the thought that he had lost his next victim, too bad for him that this fantasy, this daydream was over.

I looked ahead of me, to see a clear bright corridor, it smelt faintly like frangipanis, and every so often a smiling nurse would pass me, giving a small nod of acknowledgement. I had passed through the gates of another world, another form of hell and had lived.

Because I had the inner strength to do so.
Take that Dr. Ventura.




--
Now, in all honesty, I’ve been in and out of hospital, I did have to see a gynecologist, but he was much, much nicer and friendlier. I DO have to have a Laparoscopy, and I’m not really worried about it. Compared to what I have gone through lately, it seems like nothing. Wish me luck all.
I’m hoping to have the blog reformatted soon, perhaps after surgery~

FOXTEL SELLS or does it?

Well, its been a while since I've made a post, so much for the whole make a post everyday thing. Weekends I tend to be out being social with what friends I have, you know the invisible ones in my head? All with their own wacky quirks.

That and doctors, OH LORDY I could go on and on with the doctors and what crazy theories they keep coming up with, I swear they pulled my name out of a jar and then said "Let's mess with this girl."

And mess away they did...still getting tests done but Yes~ Don't have Cancer or PCOS but now they want to send me to a dermatologist, joy, another $200 down the drain~


Righteo, now time for the actual bloggy part of my blog. Remember when I blogged about mall stalls?

Well this week's stall is Foxtel, that's right an advertising placement for Foxtel IQ, Offering free installation, free foxtel IQ free this and free that please don't read our small print just blindly sign the paper stall.

Now me being the friendly little gal I am walked up to the stall and had a nosey, noticing that the guy was having trouble setting it up, he kept getting technical errors.

"You alright? Seem to be having some trouble there." I said, tilting my head to the side to stare into the blue screen of the tv. Heck, even TV's have blue screens of death.

The guy jumped up, and acted as though I never asked the question, "HI THERE! Are you interested in foxtel? We have such and such amazing channels and this and that record live tv, not to mention blah blah blah blah free installation.

You can tell I was paying utmost attention to this mans ramblings, I stopped him and asked. "Do you own foxtel?"

He said no, I asked why, he scratched the back of his head and glanced around, almost afraid, perhaps he was being watched by the higher ups, perhaps he was going to unveil knowledge that was deemed forbidden. He wiped his brow and changed the subject.

"You get three months free!"

I raised an eyebrow and then stated that the programming on foxtel was horrible, things were constantly repeated and there was rarely ever anything new showing.

At this statement he gave another glance around the shops, what had gotten him so scared. "Well..." He began, I leaned in, was he about to divulge this mystifying secret?

"I hope you reconsider next time." He stammered, his voice low, defeated.

Dang, I thought something awesome was going to be said, I went to walk away, bidding him a good day and luck, for the poor bloke would need it.

Just as I turned to walk away, he called out to me.

"Uhm...I agree, I hate foxtel."

I gave a smile, poor, poor guy. Hates the company he works for. I turned and gave him a nod and another smile, "See-ya." I had a smile upon my face, for the lad had stuck up for himself, spoken his mind. Things would surely liven up for me. Little did I know that once my back was turned, he was attacked, jumped by several men cloaked in orange garb, muffling him and whisking him away, more than likely to be brainwashed into loving the Cable TV franchise.



Not much to say really, just another adventure regarding the Mall Stalls~