Don't let the Bastards get ya down

Hi, it's me again...

Well who did you expect? Another dose of mindless irreverence and mildly philosophical rambling ensues....

So what have I been up to? Well, last week I had to go to the hospital for some check-ups in regards pain throughout my body that I've been experiencing for many years now, with no real answers as to the cause of it. The usual spiel from the Doc has always been the same, well your getting older, wear n tear, all those years riding bikes in the cold n wet finally catching up with you etc etc.....

I'm 45 for christ sakes, I feel like I'm 75 but that's neither here nor there as the Doc continues to insist that I continue to take the painkillers and just get on with it. Phhbt!

Why is it that the medical profession knows more about my illness than I myself do? Something just doesn't seem right there, this is my body after all and yet they profess to know how I'm feeling better than I do myself! It's all bollocks and yet amidst all this bollocks there is something that I should feel rightly relieved about in all this and that's that I am fortunate enough to live in the UK.

OK I know that I've griped about the UK in past posts and my thoughts still stand on all the points I made earlier, in this one case however I must confess that I am truly blessed for here we have a healthcare system that is the envy of the world.

*Gripe warning*

OK so it's under constant threat of being turned into yet another money spinning business by our fat cat, corrupt and greedy governmental masters, but at least for the moment anyway, my healthcare is still free, so that IS a big plus. If for example I lived in the US of A, their fat cat, corrupt and greedy governmental masters would be fleecing me for every single penny I have in my quest for an answer to my continuing pain, here however I don't have to face that. YET!

So anyway, where was I.....

I went to the hospital for some checks, blood tests, X-rays, you know the stuff. I felt like a bloody pincushion (pardon the pun) whilst I underwent this and by the time they had finished I swear there seemed to be more blood outside of me than within me. To make matters worse, the Phlebotomist (person who takes blood) actually bore an uncanny likeness to Morticia from the Adams family!

 Pale skin, long black hair, blood red lipstick, thin and gangly, the works. Makes ya wonder Uh?

Horror chicks aside though, I can only assume that my claret actually got to the labs and didn't end up somewhere it shouldn't have, for the test results were duly received for evaluation by the consultant that was now tasked with dealing with me.

So I now have something called Fibromyalgia. Apparently there is no cure, you just deal with it. Same ol same ol uh....

Oh well, at least now I have a name for this pain, after all these years of being told it's just me getting older, I do have a recognized ailment. Kinda reminds me of ol Spike Milligan's gravestone epitaph.

"See, I told you I was ill"