I Went To The Doctor Who Diagnosed An Acute Case Of Being Awesome | T-Shirt, Vest, Hoody
My mum used to take me to the doctors every week or so. It drove me insane. The slightest sniffle and I was rushed there to be prodded, poked and examined. One day, I made the mistake of asking what the small lump under the skin near by nob was. Next thing I know, I am in the doctor's surgery, pants around my ankles whilst Dr Mohammed prodded, poked and examined MY NOB!!! There I am wondering what the hell the little purple acorn was he had just exposed from beneath my foreskin. I didn't even know that was there! I was horified and mortified and, as a result, vowed to never go to the doctors again. I failed but, having said that, it takes a LOT to get me to go. I once even insisted on local anaesthetic for an operation that required general, watched whilst it was being done, insulted the surgeon, telling him that he was no better than a murderer, discharged myself early an hour or so later and somehow drove home, before collapsing with blood poisoning and an infection. If I ever die through neglect, it will be thanks to my mum and Dr Mohammed.
PS I would like to add that, in adulthood, my helmet is no longer bright purple nor hidden beneath it's foreskin. For some reason, it is quite important for me to let you know that. Purple helmets are really best left to those under 12.
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