My day at the doctors!

A tale of medically ritualised menticide.

As has pretty much been my routine since around May of 2020… I awaken to greet each new day with a mildly exerted, yawn accompanied, stretching of my gangly limbs and extremities - soon followed by a long anguished sigh of bitter hopelessness and dreaded despair. For I know all too well.. with each new day, comes a fresh batch of ever increasing, medically and scientifically backed government overreach and mainstream media propelled nonsense and absurdity.

But today sees an extra knot forming in my already nauseated stomach — for today is the day of my much dreaded appointment down at the local medical centre to see my GP.

******

Now showered and dressed, I sit slumped over the kitchen table, unenthusiastically gnawing on a piece of cold toast, occasionally stealing slurps from my 3rd cup of way too strong instant coffee. Arnie, my British ginger short hair, lays sprawled out across the kitchen bench.. he gazes at me knowingly, almost empathically. I wearily glance at the clock — the time is near.

******

Five minutes to nine on a bitterly cold Wednesday morning, I stand outside the medical clinic - mentally preparing myself for the psychological warfare that most certainly lay ahead.

“Ok.. let’s do this!”... I valiantly whisper to myself before heading on in.

I pause for a beat - take in a deep breath — then ever so reluctantly walk through the ‘covid fear propaganda covered sliding glass doors’ — then follow the ‘large luminous lime green left-side floor arrows’ that should (if all goes well) bring me safely to the medical centre’s ‘fully perspex enclosed front reception area’ which lay some 10 metres ahead.

Despite being fully aware that the wearing of face masks on all public transport and government facilities has been made mandatory by ‘tyrannical law’, my face remains bare as a newborn infant.. therefore I’m acutely aware of the many shocked and horrified eyes that are trained upon this madman, who would be so unthinkingly selfish and reckless as to place everyone’s life in mortal danger by neglecting to wear a thin piece of itchy cloth over his proboscis and chops!

******

As I approach the reception desk, I brace for the impending challenge...

“Hello sir, have you an appointment with us this morning?” (Asked the fully masked elderly lady who eyed me off suspiciously, whilst wondering if she should buzz security).

“Yes, my name is John Botica, I have a 9AM appointment to see Dr. ******* ”

“Sir, you do know that wearing a mask is mandatory whilst on these premises, do you not?”

“Yes, yes I know that.”

“So why then may I ask.. are you not wearing one?”

“Umm.. because I don’t want to.”

“No I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to wear a mask… would you please step over to our chemist counter and purchase one.”

“No, I’m not prepared to do that.”

“Well then I’ll have to ask you to leave sir..”

“Oh hang on, hang on.. I might have an old scrunched up one stuffed right down deep in the bottom of my pants pocket.” (I said, being fully prepared should such a situation arise).

“Oh yes! Here it is!! This should serve to make me look like a member of this mindlessly unthinking cult! What do you think, does that look ok?!” The elderly lady and her younger colleague just stare at me blankly.. bemused, (like a pair of housekeepers from the Stepford Wives).

******

Anyway, I eventually got in to see my GP and had my repeat prescriptions filled out, before promptly getting the hell out of that nuthouse! (But not before throwing a friendly little wave towards the two burly security guards who appeared outside his door).

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