Embarrasment

It's been one of those one step forward two back sort of day. I started sneezing yesterday arvo and woke gasping for air often last night. This morning a water main burst in my head severely testing the absorbency of my pad (see home not blotter). It didn't take long to conclude that working was out this day and a trip to the doctor for a medical certificate was in. After a few more hours of moist sleep I roused and gradually saw that I could take advantage of this opportunity with the doctors to resolve a small embarrassing complaint.

For some time now I have had a skin 'tag' (not unlike manufacturers tags in clothing) growing on the inside of my left bum cheek. Just as unremoved clothing tags can, it has irritated me for some time now. Easily removed by tying off with cotton thread or suture this one's location renders self removal impossible and is embarrassingly located. I've wondered how many slabs it would be worth to a friend and how many of them we should drink before operating. I'd pondered approaching the doctor at my last visit for whooping cough immunisation, then at the last minute I was switched from the old curmudgeonly male doctor in the practise to a new to me, charming female and I coward out.

As I called this morning confident of an appointment with old Crum, nobody ever chooses to see him, I resolved that he would visit Mr. Moon. Well I certainly underestimated old crum. He lived up to his patients estimation and doubled it. Despite my protestation of embarrassment at what we must do and my understanding the process based on previous experience he flatly refused my request. He went as far as taking a look and I hasten here to say that the affected site is at the top of the cheek requiring only a loosening of the trousers to observe. He prescribed getting a mate to tie it off with cotton thread. "I don't have a mate, that's why I've come to a doctor". I said. " We can burn it off with liquid nitrogen" he said "but we don't have any; maybe next week". "But you could tie it off" I protested. "I don't have any cotton". "you've got sutures, use them". "That would be an expensive waste" he replied as I saw that he was not joking.

By now I had my doctors certificate and had signed the Medicare slip, obviously too soon. As I departed still incredulous at this mans obstinacy I noticed the two dollar shop and was tempted to buy a reel of cotton and storm back to demand service but alas embarrassment, the core of this tale, held me back from this Hollywood ending. Was his ethical behaviour? Was he legally obliged? Is there an ombudsman? Can I choose not to serve my customers? O if only.