You Definitely Need The Gloves

Wednesday is books - and writing. Today it's a short story for y'all...

It started at the end of a long plane ride. We flew from San Francisco to Sydney – through the night – and went from Northern Hemisphere summer to rain, rain, rain in Australia. It was freezing and pissing down and all I had to wear was shorts (well, t-shirts and jandals too, of course…) I woke up on the plane with a cold. And it never went away.

After a few weeks I went to the doctor, and he thought I probably had some nasal infection so he wrote a letter to the ear, nose and throat specialist – asking for me to be looked at. And they said nah. No need. No point. I was interviewing people for my podcast  and my voice sounded horrible. Apart from that I was fine.

People would ask me – between 15 and 40 times a day – about my cold. And I’d say that I didn’t have one. I was fine. I went back to the doctor. Told him to sort this shit out for me. And he said that I probably had a polyp. And that it probably wasn’t cancerous or anything – but it could be. He said I could pay for a scan myself. Since our specialists had said that they didn’t want to see me.

I paid for the scan.

Next thing you know – I’m in the system. I’m on the list. I’m a guy with a polyp up my nose and they never really got into how it got there but my guess is the air-conditioning system from the plane (but I don’t say it too much, nor to too many people because I don’t like sounding like a conspiracy theorist). A few more months go by – and then I get the call to go and see the specialist.

The doctor will see you now.

Now that you’ve paid for the thing they said they didn’t need. I get a letter saying that I might get an operation – eventually. And eventually – a few more months on – I get another letter asking me to a pre-op consultation. They look up my nose, spray this awful-tasting spray up there. Tell me I’m in need of the operation and that they’ll likely be able to get everything out. I’ll be fine (again) when they do that. All I have to do is sit and wait for it to be scheduled.

People kept asking me if I’m okay.

I kept saying I’m fine. (When I said it, I would say “Eine thine!”) The day of the op arrives. And I get dropped off about 7am.  I wait a bit and then they put me in the bed and wheel me in. The surgeon says, “this will be quick”. The jab in the arm and I’m out to lunch.

I wake up days later – (it’s been about 50 minutes, tops) – and they give me a sandwich. And I have a bandage under my top lip that feels like a drip-tray. And there’s a tiny bit of blood. But not much.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the face.

They show me the picture – what they took from my face looks like stir-fry chicken, minus the vegetables. They need the beds, so they ask if there’s anyone to pick me up. I say, sure, I’ll just text my ride, is it alright if I wait outside? And they say it’s fine if I sign on the line. I do. And then stroll home. It’s nice tagging letterboxes on a general anaesthetic – and I stop in at the video store on the corner and rent some DVDs.

I’m cured.

The very next day my voice is back. To normal. Back. No more “Eine thine!” I’m actually ‘fine’. And the only bad bit is when I have to go back a week later and they scrape the dried blood from up in my nose. I can feel it in my eyeballs and my toes and the tip of my dick – and I know that’s not how the song goes. But I just don’t feel it in my fingers…

They ask me if I want to collect the polyp – and all the gunk that was up my nose and I tick yes on the form – because why not. So a month or so later I get a call – I’m to go to the hospital to collect the tissue.

I sign a form. Walk down a long corridor. And then another. And another. It’s like Get Smart or something. I sign more forms, get given the package, and some gloves – I’m told to wear the gloves. And to keep it in the freezer or return it to the hospital if I decide I no longer want it.

I had decided I no longer wanted it ages ago – that’s how I finally got into
the hospital.

And that’s the story of how I ended up with some radioactive-type tissue in my freezer. It glows when you look at it. You definitely need the gloves.