Following excessive visits to the dungy since the onset of dysentery, it was time to visit the docs. My wife had turned my frequent trips to the bathroom into a game, keeping 'score' and performance-managing my condition. I went to JP and Sarah's Aussie doctor. It was both handy and comforting to find the services of a friendly antipidian medic here in Israel: I had no idea how I would have translated "I've been going like a yo yo" into Hebrew. Even with the language barrier out of the way however, I had to remember the potential cultural misgivings in communicating with our friends from down under. Best 'dumb it down a bit' or put it in a way my sun-burnt chum could understand. I summoned all my cultural flair and explained that "…in the world of 'poo-cricket', I've kept up a fairly impressive batting average, over what's been a fairly gruelling five-day test. I've been in dashing distance of a loo at all times, and just shy of eighty 'runs' to the bathroom has entertained both my wife and restauranteurs alike". He was unamused, but able to make a clear diagnosis: I got a prescription for antibiotics and a superfluous rectal examination (Presumably to stop me being such a Pom and to keep the wise-cracks from re-occurring).
After Maria and Polis's Salvation Army 'forced-feeding programme' in Greece, dysentery was a very timely diet. Be assured, dysentery will be the next big Hollywood weight loss fad….you heard it here first.
Come along for the journey!
Sunday, 8 November 2009
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