THE QUACK

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on March 27, 2013 0 Comments

THE QUACK

viagra photo: Viagra viagra.jpg

Doctor, help me, I’m scared…

What is it, Mrs Pricklehose? What can possibly be concerning you on a bright and glorious day like this?

It’s not bright and glorious if you’re dying, Doctor… and I’m scared because I’m dying…

I’ve never suggested any such thing, Mrs Pricklehose…

You don’t have to, Doctor, not these days, not with the Internet and not with Facebook…

What have they got to do with your health, Mrs Pricklehose?

It started with Megan Docherty down the street … she told me only last week … she’d got these lumps…

Lumps, Mrs Pricklehose?

Lumps, Doctor. And she checked on the Internet down at the library, and found out what they were … she’s got cancer, Doctor, and she was dying. And so am I…

Is she absolutely certain that it’s cancer? Or might she be jumping to conclusions…?

She’s seen her doctor. Not her regular doctor, mind you, he doesn’t know anything, but she’s seen this Eastern woman, from China or Japan or some such place, where they know stuff … And she’s got cancer all right.

Who has? The oriental qua… er, doctor?

No, doctor, Megan has. It’s the lumps. She got tablets for them, really expensive tablets, and they worked. The lumps have gone … the cancer’s gone … but if I get anything like it I can’t afford the Eastern doctor or her tablets, so I’ll have to die…

What about my prescriptions, Mrs Pricklehose? Might they not help you if, and mark my words, I mean if … if you get anything nasty like that?

I don’t mean no offence, doctor, but no … Megan was given medicine that didn’t work by an old fashioned doctor. But the other lady doctor’s pills did.

Enough, Mrs Pricklehose. This consultation’s for you, anyway, and not the other lady or her qua … or her doctor. What exactly is it that you’re worried about? You said you had cancer too.

I’m dying, doctor. And I’m scared. Wouldn’t anyone be scared? Look at this…

Hmm. Looks like you’ve got a cyst there, Mrs Pricklehose. They’re common enough, and never, ever fatal! I’ll give you some ointment, and if it isn’t gone in a week or so we can lance it…

No, doctor, it’s just like Megan’s lumps, and they were cancer … she spent all her savings on the good Chinese medicine, but I haven’t got any savings. I brought the kids up on my own since the bastard went off with his blonde tart and never managed to save a penny … and now they’re off my hands … now I’ve got my life back … I go and get cancer, and I’m going to die…

I told you, Mrs Pricklehose. It’s a cyst. Just a common or garden perfectly ordinary cyst…

I looked on the Internet down at the library where it’s free and it’s quite plain what it is. There are pictures and everything. What’s that stuff old Wally buys, him from the leisure centre? What’s it called? He swears by it, but it’s dear too … I know, Viagra… Would that cure my cancer, doctor? Wally says it has something to do with swellings…

Mrs Pricklehose! You really must keep away from the Internet! You really must! A little knowledge can be a really dangerous thing, and I’m afraid it seems that you’ve only got a little knowledge…

That’s it! It’s exactly what the good Internet experts said you’d say! I don’t want any of your medicine or ointment or anything old fashioned, doctor! By hook or by crook I’ll save my own life if you won’t help me, and see if you care! I’ll see if Wally will give me some of his special medicine. There are cures out there, I know there are! I can’t die just yet …

Mrs Pricklehose, it’s dangerous messing with what you don’t understand! Take something for erectile dysfunction and you might give yourself a heart attack and die! All you’ve got is a cyst!

They said you’d put me off … they said all the health service wants is for people to die … they said it would save the government money… And you’re just like they said you’d be, those nice men on the Internet with their posh stethoscopes and nice polite ways. And they are nice and polite, even when they get angry about you and the silly things you say to convince me I won’t die! Good day to you, doctor, and I’m sorry you don’t want to help an old patient. I’m sorry you’re out of touch with all the real cures … I know I’m frightened of my cancer, but I’ll fight it, just you see if I don’t!

Do as you please, Mrs Pricklehose, and I’ll see you next week…

I wouldn’t be coming back here!

No, not here, Mrs Pricklehose. If you go about taking your friend’s Viagra I’ll be seeing you down at the mortuary, with my scalpel in my hand, trying to work out exactly how you died…

© Peter Rogerson 27.03.13

About the Author ()

I am a 68 year old male happily married to his lovely wife Dorothy. We enjoy the simpler things in life together. I also gain a great deal of inner peace by expressing my sometimes wacky thoughts as blogs. I also enjoy writing poetry, sometimes concernin

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