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Frankly Speaking for the uncensored take on the world of healthcare and the NHS.
Updated weekly, Frank Leigh's tongue-in-cheek column is penned exclusively for NHS ONLINE.
Fearing the worst
Out of all the scary things in the world, there must be one of them that terrifies you the most. It could be the thought of a snake slithering up your leg, or the prospect of being divebombed by a particularly powdery moth. It may be a shark attack that gives you panic attacks, or a visit to the mother-in-law. A nuclear Iran. Or being swiped, as I was today, by a bare pendulous belly, hairy and glistening, in the gym changing room.
Smile and the world smiles with you
Am I the only person who doesn’t like being waited upon? I get distinctly uncomfortable when somebody serves me; it feels like I don’t deserve it or that it’s somehow not right that I sit there and get my plate filled. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. But it’s probably more than that. I don’t like being waited upon because waiting smacks of servitude. It’s a kind of benign slavery, even though the waiter or butler or shoeshiner is getting paid for it. To me it feels like an unspoken admission; an acknowledgement of my superiority that you serve me because somehow I am better than you.
A twitch in time
Every so often I get a tremor in my eye. It buzzes and vibrates for a couple of days, like a hardy fly caught in a web. The spasms come when I’m tired or stressed out or both. Like a couple of days ago, in fact. My eye went twitch twitch twitch, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was like the fly could see the spider coming.