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Stories to Read in the Waiting Room ...

Splitting Headache

by Perry Gretton
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Dr Hickson asked.

Bert placed his hands against the sides of his head. “It’s this splitting headache, doctor. I can’t seem to get any relief.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

“I started with paracetamol, then I tried aspirin, and then ibuprofen. Nothing seems to work. Is there something you can do?”

Doctor Hickson studied Bert’s records.

“Are you under any kind of stress at the moment?”

“Not really.”

“Do you grind your teeth or clench your jaw?”

Bert shook his head emphatically. “No, never.”

“Let me see…I suppose it could be a blood clot or a tumour.”

Bert brightened. “Maybe I should have a CAT scan or an MRI?”

“No, I definitely wouldn’t recommend them.”

“Why not, doc?”

“It's going to be hard to get you into the machine on account of the hatchet embedded in the back of your skull.”

* * * * * * *

Leaving her

by Nicky Phillips
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

He looked at her, lying on the couch, glorious in her absolute nakedness. His eyes lingered over her auburn hair, cascading on to her full breasts. He admired her shapeliness, her trim waist, her womanly hips. He knew every curve, each blemish. But it had to stop.

He hated feeling downhearted. She’d given him excitement, enthusiasm. She’d reawakened something inside him and he’d loved every minute they’d been together.

Unnoticed, he left.

Arriving home, he was surprised to find his wife in the lounge. She turned her wheelchair and smiled.

“Where’ve you been? I arrived home early and couldn’t find you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been selfish but it’s over.”

Her face clouded as he continued, “We know your MS is progressing and you need more help, so I’ll be here, I’ll look after you.”

“So where were you?”

He shifted uneasily, muttering, “Life drawing, I’ve been back to art class.”

* * * * * * *

Stronger

by Gavin Damerell
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

She laughed. It was still standing: the old oak tree. But as she reached to touch the relic of her youth, the reason for her visit, her pilgrimage, came flooding back. She had cancer, and the ensuing chemotherapy, and her husband's tears by her bedside, was still painful to bear. But this was sometime ago, she reasoned. Now, in remission, and with a good prognosis, her future was bright.

She turned her attention back to the gnarly oak tree. Yes, it was still there, and so was what she had been looking for. It was carved into the bark, small, yet, still visible. The inscription read:

Susan Mitchell
+
Mark Grange
4ever
'94


Taking a pair of nail scissors from her bag, she made the necessary alterations.

Susan Grange
+
Mark Grange
4ever
'94

And Still Going Strong
'07


And she was, she thought. And getting stronger by the day.

* * * * * * *

The Man Who Had Everything

by Dan Purdue
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

He used to boast that no disease could ever kill him. He’d survived leprosy, malaria, and CJD by the time he’d left school. Surgeons cut grapefruit-sized tumours out of him every couple of years. He ran the marathon while recovering from HIV, and swam the Channel to help shrug off meningitis.

To win a bet, he paid a government laboratory to infect him with smallpox and cholera in the same weekend. He was back at work on Monday.

He toured the world, a medical marvel. The experts who studied him were convinced he would usher in a new era of healthcare. Conquering the common cold would just be the beginning.

Nothing, it seemed, could so much as dent his robust good health.

His wife wasn’t so lucky. She accidentally drank from one of his mugs and dropped dead.

Two days later a broken heart did what no disease ever could.

* * * * * * *

Mervin the Healer

by Cadwallon
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

As Mervin arrived in the city’s poorest quarter to help the diseased, a gnarled woman implored, “take pity on a leper.”

“No need - I’ll cure you,” he replied, opening a magic jar, scooping up her disease and quickly replacing the lid. She ran off, fingering her unblemished skin with disbelief.

Over the following days, crowds of shadowy figures appeared outside Mervin’s door - and he healed them all - except for the last, who arrested him.

That night, at the palace banquet, the royal physician pulled out the jar he’d taken from Mervin and announced it could cure the greedy nobility’s bulging stomachs and sagging hips. They all rushed forwards fighting one another to get the jar, which smashed spilling its contents.

A month later, the poor revolted, took over the palace and banished the disease-riddled nobility to the slums.

Mervin shrugged and set off to help another city.

* * * * * * *

Sports definitions for exercise cheats

by Patsy Collins
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

Weight lifting – Carrying your supper tray to the sofa.
Sprinting – Moving quickly to the bakery.
Track & Field events – Taking a picnic.
100 metres – The maximum distance to travel without a car.
Wrestling – Having difficulty with the chocolate biscuit wrapping.
Rowing – Arranging chocolate bars in neat rows.
Boxing – Packing lunch box.
Bowling – Putting treacle pudding and custard into a bowl.
Aerobics – Eating Aeros and biscuits at the same time.
Discus - Toddlers moving (with disgust) anything green from their plates.

* * * * * * *

Grandma Fortingbrass

by Dan Purdue
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

The old ladies in the Jerry Hat-Trick ward were like chickens in a coop, all clucking and fussing, except of course for Grandma Fortingbrass. It was obvious who was in charge. I bet even the nurses did what she said.

I delivered the posy of flowers and ran back to the end of the bed. I was out of range of her skellington hands, but her laser-powered eyes locked onto me over her half-moon old-lady glasses. She smiled. Even the Little Red Riding Hood wolf’s teeth weren’t that big.

Mummy asked how she was.

“The so-called doctor is about seventeen,” she said in her poshest, loudest voice. “He simply hasn’t a clue.”

Daddy asked if she would prefer to see a private specialist.

“How dare you!” she boomed, flinging a slipper at him. It hit Daddy’s ear, really hard. “You know perfectly well that there’s nothing wrong with my privates.”

* * * * * * *

Medical Treatment for a Broken Heart

by Cadwallon
(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)

Patients often come to my surgery complaining of a broken heart. Of course, each has to be treated as an emergency because, as we all know, failure of the heart can have very serious health consequences.

Now, if you consult any medical book, you’ll find the standard heart investigation is an ECG. My tip is not to bother with this, because it invariably takes ages to find a tear-free inch of skin to attach the electrodes and the test results will always be normal.

No, I’ve found it’s best to sit the patient down with a 'nice cup of tea' and a hanky before bringing in the cleaning lady to sweep round the room. This simple manoeuvre seems to release spontaneous outpourings of pent-up emotionally-charged inner thoughts. But that's just the inital therapy, because once the patient joins in the conversation, one can quietly slip off for a game of golf.

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PS - Health and Poverty

Perhaps the biggest cause of ill health in the world is poverty. Help to Make Poverty History. For example, why not lend some of your money to disadvantaged communities to enable them to trade their way out of poverty through schemes such as Shared Interest.

See also MAKEPOVERTYHISTORY North East for details and links to campaigns against poverty.

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