As I had been fasting since eight o'clock last night for this morning's blood test, I left the house on an empty stomach not unlike the countless mornings when I was still working and in too much of a hurry to have a proper breakfast.
The pathology request was for "CK; Glucose Fasting; LFT; Lipis with HDL (Fasting); Triplycerides; EUC; CRP; ESR; FBC; Microalbumin Urine / Freehand Tests: Ca, Mg, Vit D / Clinical Notes: IHD, on Denosumab", and my favourite Irish phlebotomist, Shauna (or Seána), was ready whenever I was to stick it up my vein. Mercifully, I was on my own when it came to giving a urine sample. "Where appropriate, pull back the foreskin", the male instructions read. There were also instructions for females, but none for 'in-betweeners'. SOUTHERN PATHOLOGY must be 'old school'.
With my stomach still grumbling, we rushed across the street to our favourite tea rooms and placed our orders: two still-hot-from-the-oven scones thick with cream and strawberry jam and a plunger coffee for Padma, and ditto plus a pot of tea for moi (and the same treat for my favourite phlebotomist which I took across the street to let her know that her gentle probing for my vein had not been entirely in vain).
Next to us sat an elderly man who had also been a German - the country seems to be thick with them! - and so we talked in the same lingo, to the dislike of another couple sitting on the opposite side. Not wanting to start another war, we switched back to English, not because it's the only language WE knew but because it's the only language THEY knew.
He - the German - had been a self-employed tradesman for most of his life and probably earned more money than I ever had, and yet here he was, retired on the government's age pension or, not to put too fine a point on it, depending on welfare. Blissfully unaware of the Rule of 72 and what Albert Einstein once called the "eighth wonder of the world" - compound interest; "he who understands it, earns it; he who doesn't, pays it" - he'd spent all his "cash in hand" money at the end of each day.
Not that he was hard up - how could he be when the government paid him and his wife $1,777.00 a fortnight regardless of how much tax, if any, he had ever paid - as he lived in his own house and, despite having been a careless spender all his life, simply couldn't help himself having almost accidentally accumulated some substantial savings without losing his government welfare cheque (a couple living in their own home can still have almost half a million dollars in the bank before the age pension cuts out completely). We congratulated ourselves on living in this country: he for getting a free ride from the government, and I for getting a tax-free income in retirement from my own investments.
It was time to pay the bill. "That'll be fifty-one dollars, hon", said the nice lady at the door. I'm not sure if she said 'hon' or 'Hun' as she had been listening in on our German conversation but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. And did I tell you they also had a 'Craft Shop' where Padma had bought some 'crafty' things, and I had picked up from their 'Book Nook' "The Good Soldier Svejk", which I hadn't read since my schooldays.
I handed her a tenner and, pointing to the sign on the wall behind her, said, "Pretend it's 1995!" (I'm only kidding; I even left a generous tip!)
And I left a feedback with SOUTHERN PATHOLOGY: "In this busy and crazy world we too often forget to give a thought to those who, tirelessly and with a smile, do their duty. I went for a blood test at your clinic in Moruya today. Being a 'Doc Martin' when it comes to blood, I was hoping for a gentle bloodletting, and got it from my favourite phlebotomist, Shauna (or Seána). It was over and done with before I could even feel sorry for myself! I hope Shauna will continue working with you for as long as I continue getting my blood tested!"
Googlemap Riverbend