Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Are you a Jealous Person?



“Did you make time to go to the doctor today?” I pestered Scotto as soon as he walked in the door after work.

In his typically injury-prone style he’d managed to pop his knee when we were away last weekend. As well as that he had a worrying painful lump on his upper chest rib.

I don’t know about you but I don’t like anyone finding a lump anywhere. Nineteen year old son Padraic, showed me a grape-sized lump he had in the side of his stomach a few months ago and I’d booked a medical appointment for him faster than you could say Munchausen by Proxy. It wound up being a lipoma, which is a benign tumour composed of adipose tissue… in other words, body fat.

I suddenly wondered if that was what was currently residing around my midriff. A gigantic lipoma!

It would explain a lot anyway.


Scotto wasn’t concerned at all and blamed the lump on a possible injury from erecting a gazebo for our dogs a few days earlier.



Yes. We bought our dogs a gazebo from Bunnings.

“So what did the doctor say?” I badgered Scotto.

“Oh… I may have torn a ligament in my knee. I’ll see how it goes over the next fortnight.”

“But what about the lump on your chest?” I harangued, concerned for my husband’s well-being. 


“She just thinks it’s a haematoma from a hard bump,” he shrugged.

My concern for his lump was swiftly diverted. 

“She? Your doctor was a she?” I queried, wondering what had happened to the usual old fart he went to.

“Yeah.”

“So… was she hot?” I asked in a semi-jokey voice.

“No… no,” he replied, giving an artificial guffaw and extra cough. “She was Russian.”

“Russian, huh? Did she have an accent by any chance?”

“Yep, it was very thick. I couldn’t understand her very well,” he swallowed nervously.

“Was she one of those Russian weightlifting types?” I asked hopefully.

“No…. slim... she was quite tall though. In fact when Svetlana was feeling my chest she was almost as tall as me,” he mused, staring off in a reverie.

“And was Svetlana a blonde by any chance?” I pushed on, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looked at the ceiling pretending to try to remember, “Yes. A bit blonde I suppose.”

“So Scotto, your doctor was tall, slim, blonde and had a sexy Russian accent but she wasn’t hot? I think you might be telling me porkies!”

“No,” Scotto stammered. “She was really quite plain, Pinky. Quite plain.”

Yah Scotto… vatever… vatever.

Are you a jealous person?