A very Dutch medical check

I needed to have a full medical check as part of a condition for a job offer I received.

Problems:
1) I can’t take leave from work in the Netherlands due to nearing end of quarter to ensure deadlines are met – so I can’t take a Friday or Monday off to fly back to the UK.
2) Places in the UK that the new company uses for medical checks do not open weekends.

Solutions:
1) I twist someone’s arm and take a half-day leave.
2) Go to a place in Holland that does the medical checks needed by this new company.

So off I went to this doctor qualified to issue offshore medical certificates – this is as best as I could remember. He is about 55-60, white hair, tall typical dutchman, with all the courageness of the Dutch, and all the manners of a Frenchman, and all the consideration of an arrogant old doctor who is fed up of seeing patients.

Doctor is typing furiously into his old laptop. It is a filty laptop, with a couple of keys missing. Grime covers the rest of the keys, and dust settled on the screen, so much so, I couldn’t see what he was typing.

Every now and again he muttered something. Each time he muttered, it got louder. I eventually worked out he was saying “SHIT” or “OH SHIT!”.

DOC: “Mr Sterry, you have a hearing problem?”
Me: Yes, that’s right. [thinking: isn't it obvious?]
DOC: “Why do you have a hearing problem?”
Me: Er…. [I thought it must be a language thing...]
Me: “No one knows what causes my deafness”
DOC: [frustrated]: “Why do you have a hearing problem?”
Me: Er…. [how could I answer this?]
Me: What do you mean?
DOC: “Well, what are those things in your head?”
Me: [puzzled, he's a medical guy, needs he ask?]
Me: They are hearing aids – they help me hear, like how your glasses help you read.
DOC: “Right, can you hear?”
Me: Yes, I can pick up your strong French-Dutch accent, hear the humming noise in your room.. [interupted]
DOC: “OK OK. What is your deafness?”
Me: Er… what?
DOC: [frustrated] “The source of your deafness?”
Me: Oh! Its a sensory bi-neural hearing loss
DOC: “Ah. Right…” [he looked confused]
Me: Lack of hair in the cochlea
DOC: “Oh you have no hair” [he looking even more confused
Me: [thinking: where did they get this guy from?]

He muttered “Oh shit! SHIT!” as he types furiously into his filthy laptop again.

DOC: “Take your shirt off”
Me: [takes shirt off, doesn't know whether to sit or stand]
DOC: “Just sit down”
Doc takes a blood pressure without really telling me what’s he going to do.
Doc asks me to stand up, he got his sethoscope out. He gestures me to breathe deeply.
Doc turned me round and gestures me to drop my pants.
Me: “What?”
[Doc mumbles something cos he wasn't looking at me]
Me: “Doctor, I cannot hear what you are saying unless you look at me”
Doc: [very impatient] “Pull your trousers down!”
Me: [looks at the full length window we're standing by, in full view of an office complex overlooking us, and how bright this room is compared to the overcast weather outside]
Me: [drops pants]
Doc: “Put your arm across your mouth and bite into it and blow hard into your arm”
[Doc presses his finger just above my balls on both side as I did it twice]
Doc: “Ok, put your pants on… and your shirt”
Doc: “Oh SHIT! SHIT!”
Me: [looking confused, no obvious reasons why he said it]
Doc: “You need to pee into this”
[Doc hands over a coffee cup!]
Me: [he must be having a laugh]
Doc: “Toilet is down on the left”
Me: “How much do you want?”
Doc: “About 1/4″
–
Me: “Ok, here’s the cup.”
[Doc does some kind of litmus test and then tosses the contents carelessly into the sink - I wonder how much it splashed]
Doc: “Ok, breathe into this ventilometer really hard – breathe in deep as you can first”
[He gestures a big huffing puffing bad wolf and I'm one of the three little pigs on the receiving end of his bad breath]
Doc: “OH SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
Doc: “Do you have any wee left in you?”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Doc: “I forgot to save your wee for more test before”
Me: “I’m all drained out”
Doc: “Ok, wait 10 minutes and then pee into that cup”
Me: “It will be hours before I need to go again”
Doc “Shit. You have to come back next week.”

And then he offered to shake my hand – I very, very, very reluctantly offered my hand to his.

I went back to the reception myself, told the lady that I need to return. I did not say why. Then I sat down as she did her paperwork. There were about seven other people in the room waiting for their turn. Suddenly the receptionist blurted out “He chucked away your urine before he did extra tests did he not?” – shaking her head as if the doc done that for the upteenth time.

Next week: Urine test in a coffee cup (again) and a chest x-ray.

If ever get MRSA, it would be in this place, not some NHS hospital in the UK.