I had my first visit from a wiley wee woman in about November 2010.
She asked me lots of questions, showed me lots of pictures of sandwiches and took my blood pressure. Apparently my levels were elevated when shown pictures of doughnuts and Quavers.
She weighed me and measured my height and, according to the chart, I'm about 3ft too short.
She left with me a food diary to fill in and £30 in Marks and Spencers vouchers - not bad for an hour of my time mostly spent looking at food and holding my stomach in while she measured me.
I filled in the food diary for a week like a good girl. The lady came back to pick it up and to chat through it. I felt I needed to explain the 'Skips and Curly Wurly breakfast' day along with the 'Scotch Egg and bag of Frisps washed down with a Melton Mowbray pork pie and a can of Stella' day, but she told me it wasn't necessary and the information would just go 'into the pot'.
Fortunately, she didn't weigh me again. mainly because she had forgotten the harness attachment for the scales.
She left telling me that a nurse would be in touch after Christmas to do the next stage.
Sure enough, ole nursey called and a date was set for today (16th March).
She arrived at 12noon on the dot which was a nice excuse for another wee break from the last minute scurry writing of my latest forensics essay! With my back being completely fucko'd it took me about 5 minutes to get to the buzzer to let her in.
I opened the door to a Nancy McPhee type individual and realised that asking if she had a prescription pad on her for some 'horse tranquilizer type pain relief' was not the best opening line...
She had me fill in a bunch of forms then took my blood pressure, then some blood, then measured me, then had me sign some sort of 'I give the world and his wife the right to sell this information to aliens and other non-humans for any sort of testing, biological or otherwise' forms. Quite flattered an alien might be interested actually.
She then told me that I'd have to give her some pee samples and more blood in the next couple of weeks.
To say my mouth fell open when she presented the 'bottles' would be an understatement.
I was expecting the wee jars you get from the doctor which, granted, are quite hard to aim into and you end up having to shove a bendy straw up yourself to stem the flow, or mopping it up off the floor with a cloth and wringing it out into the bottle.
However, this was the other end of the ridiculous scale!
The big bottle, I swear to the big man upstairs, is the same size as a family car sized bottle of Castrol GTX. She produced a slightly smaller bottle - exactly the same shape but 'hand bag sized'. WHO HAS A HANDBAG THAT FUCKING BIG??
The piece de resistance was the accompanying funnel and jug. I've never seen a funnel so big. I asked if all ladies got the same sized funnel and she said 'I'm not sure, we do have different sizes and I guess they thought you might need a big one'. She clearly wasn't being rude and had no idea that I was relating the size of the funnel to the presumed size of my fanny, but COME ON. Someone somewhere appears to be under the impression that I have a fanny like a clown's pocket. Not impressed.
I had a practice pee tonight and, although there was A LOT of the funnel that was unused, it did its job.
Proper pee day is next week. I also have to go for 8 hours without food (only water) on another day, have no alcohol and then, immediately the next day, have more blood taken.
All this just to prove that Scottish people do, in fact, eat Scotch eggs, cheap pork pies, crisps, haggis and are partial to Stella and wine.
Realising this phenomenon = money well spent I say!
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| SCOTCH EGG! |
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| PORK PIE CITY! |
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| CRISPS |
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| MMMMMM |
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| WILD HAGGIS |
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| HAGGIS AFTER COOKING |
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