How do you tell a doctor you need Viagra without having your dignity run out in the streets and throw itself under a bus?
I was asking myself that question while sitting in a GP’s waiting room recently.
But wait!
Before making assumptions, the Viagra wasn’t for me.
It was for my father. Please believe me.
Let me explain.
Park run
Dad called me up and said in a weighty voice he needs to see me urgently.
He refused to discuss the matter over the phone, leaving me to Google holiday resorts in Indonesia because, at 71 years, whatever he needs to tell me so ‘urgently’ could not be good.
But it turned out he didn’t have one month left to live. On the contrary, he was very much alive and signed up for the parkrun.
That was what he claimed he needed the Viagra for. He made a bet with Uncle Aubrey that he could complete the parkrun in ‘less than 25 minutes’, and he heard the little blue tablets ‘enhances your endurance dramatically’.
Now, of course, I didn’t believe his story, especially because I knew how much he loathed any form of running.
I’ve never seen him run, not even to the loo that time he contracted a severe bout of diarrhoea after eating a snoek he bought from a road-side vendor on Boxing Day.
He said there’s no dignity in running from an enemy.
I asked dad why he doesn’t ask his own doctor for the pills, but he said he couldn’t possibly do that because they’ve known each other since I was born.
‘You’re the only one I trust’.
I wish he didn’t.
Cash or gold
I also wasn’t going to go to my doctor, instead choosing one in a part of town where I seldom venture.
The waiting room was dark and contained three rows of plastic garden chairs.
The only decoration was a framed certificate hanging askew on a dirty wall, and if I deciphered it correctly, was evidence doctor Limbo is adequately qualified to amputate limbs in war-torn Liberia.
An A4 paper stuck next to the certificate said; ‘PAYMENT IN CASH AND GOLD ONLY’.
Sitting there waiting my turn, I said a thank you prayer that there’s not something seriously wrong with me and I made a mental note to upgrade my medical aid.
I explained to the doctor what I wanted, but didn’t give any reasons.
At first he didn’t ask questions, instead just ordered me to roll up my sleeve and he checked my blood pressure.
While he did this I started sweating and hoped it’s not another way of performing a polygraph test.
After informing me my blood pressure is normal, he wanted to know if I smoke, how much alcohol I use, whether I suffer from diabetes and if I exercise regularly.
I replied with a yes, moderate quantities, negative for the diabetes and told him I’m planning on joining the parkrun.
I don’t care
I gave dad the pills and told him to pace himself because there won’t be any repeat prescriptions.
He thanked me and started explaining again about wanting to prove a point, but I stopped him right there.
Whether he really ran the parkrun I don’t care.
All I know is mom, out of the blue, gave me that rocking chair she said I can only get once she’s dead.
She claims she no longer has the time to sit and relax.
