Dr Dad.

My gran - the French Mauritian one - was a bit of a hypochondriac; a characteristic I think The Father has inherited.


Yesterday my head nearly exploded. I had a post holiday depression headache so sore that I could barely rest my glasses atop my head from the severe pain that surged through my body, driving me very close to a fresh bout of bumilia.  And so I phoned The Father for a little bit of sympathy.

The Father:  Hi, Pant.  Can I speak to The Daughter please?

The Pant: Um. I made the call, Dad.  How are you?

TF:  Fine thanks.  The Baby Girl?  Can I speak to her?

TP:  I'm not that well, Dad.  Worst headache - even worse than the hangover post Pan and Kettle.

TF:  You know what, Pant.  I once had a friend who had a headache-

TP: (Haven't we all?)  Ya?

TF:  And he took a few panados and went to bed and died that night because of a brain tumour the size of his fist.  Had a big hand too.  And you know what they say about guys with big hands?

TP:  Big brain tumours?

TF:  No.  Big fists.

TP:  Well, I did take some pills and then I fell asleep for two hours.  And I've just woken up and it's still sore.

TF:  Sounds like my big fisted friend.

TP:  You think I have a brain tumour?

TF:  It wouldn't be the first.

TP:  I've had a brain tumour before?

TF:  No.  My big fisted friend did.

TP:  Sheesh Dad.  I'm a little worried now.  What if I die?

TF:  Should I set my alarm clock for every five minutes tonight to phone and see if you're still alive?

TP:  We'll not get any sleep.

TF:  Probably best that you don't get any sleep.

TP:  I might just be coming down with flu.

TF:  Then you definitely mustn't sleep.

TP:  Why?

TF:  I once had a friend, who did a little bit of exercise when he had flu.  And he went for a lie down and had a heart attack and died.  Have you done any exercise today?

TP:  Well, I walked to my car twice-

TF:  That's enough to do it.  Go and buy yourself 8 Red Bulls and don't sleep.  Although, I read this newspaper article of this girl who had flu who drank Red Bull and died.

TP:  Dad, I'm shitting myself a bit here.  Do you think I'll be okay?

TF:  I'm really not sure, Pant.  The prognosis is not good.  Do you have any muscular pain?

TP:  Well, my one arm is a little sore.

TF:  You know, I once had a friend.  He had a sore arm and went for a swim in the ocean and it got bitten off by a shark.

TP:  You think I'm going to lose my arm?

TF:  All I'm saying is 'stay away from the beach'.  And don't sleep.  And don't drink Red Bull.  Don't close your eyes.  Don't move.

TP:  You're scaring me a bit.  Can I talk to Mom?

The Incubator:  Dad says you're not feeling well.  Got a bit of a headache?

TP:  Yes.  Do you think I'm going to die of a brain tumour/heart attack?

TI:  Have you been drinking water?

TP:  Yes

TI:  Have you made a poo today?

TP: (really?) No.

TI:  Well, there's your problem.