I like my gastroenterologist. He must be in his mid 60s now, a very tall man, impeccably dressed in pinstripe suit and very shiny shoes. Extremely friendly. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years until yesterday and he hasn't changed. Lovely man.
Though I did once see him outside the consulting room environment. In 1998 when I had the endoscopy. He was dressed in a bloodstained butcher's apron and had an evil grin on his face as he forced the 3 inch diameter ribbed rubber hose down my throat with demonic glee.
Admittedly I was under giggly anaesthetic at the time.
He's now trying a new drug on me. Not that he wants to, but the antipsychotic which has calmed my digestive system for the past 6 years is no longer in production. The company that manufactured it don't think it's making enough money for them. So they're producing a completely different, more profitable drug at the factory instead.
So for the next few weeks, please be gentle with me. I'm to do cold turkey for three days next week, followed by the introduction of new foreign matter into my system.
The new stuff's a more recently developed drug and hopefully won't make me so drowsy.
The only question is, as it's not a drug designed to deal with digestive disorders, will it do the job we want it to?
So I'd be most grateful if you all would stand up and give a big cheer for Duloxetine 30 mg. Maybe with the encouragement of good people like yourselves, the little guy will perform.
"We love Duloxetine, we do! We love Duloxetine, we do! We love Duloxetine, we do! Oh, Duloxetine, we love you!"
And no fucking Mexican waves.