So we took Sly to the doctor again. He hadn’t slept much and had stated that his joints were on fire. Not good. I took my laptop this time so I could at least go straight to the office afterwards. Wasn’t going to muck about in traffic again. We got to the clinic far quicker this morning than the last time.

A typical block of flats in Luanda.

I decided that I had better accompany Sly in again, considering what we went through last time. The first thing the doctor says is that he is fine. He points out his blood test and says he is okay. There is nothing wrong with him. He doesn’t actually ask why we are back, or what is wrong, but instead launches into this whole “He is fine” bit. When I started trying to explain to him that he was not okay and there was something definitely wrong with him, he kept saying that physically he is fine. Jesus man, this guy was really getting on my tits now. He then launched into the whole “why is he acting so nervous routine” again, and this was very strange as I was speaking for him, and why wasn’t he talking himself. I answered that it was because English was not his first language, and that he wasn’t South African.

“English isn’t my first language and I get by ok”, he replied. “And it says here he is from South Africa.”

Man. I had to explain that he was from Zimbabwe and that he was not actually South African. I explained that there most definitely was something wrong him. He denied this. Okay, now I was seriously getting pissed off, and Sly could see it. this continued back and forth for about another minute or so, and then i had had enough. I basically read him the riot act, or the equivalent of the “malpractice act” I suppose. I told him that Sylvester was sick and that I didn’t think his opinion was very good. He told me I was welcome to go to another doctor if I wanted as he had been in medicine for 11 years and who was I to say differently. Man this was just petty. he then started going on about how he knew South Africa. he had lived there before, and he knew what was happening there now.

“What?” Sly questioned him?

“Down”, he stated, “It’s going down.”

I eventually said that something is wrong with Sly, and that he needs to give us his opinion. What does he think, that sort of stuff. he continued going on about some sh*t or other and trying to take the piss out of me. I decided to hold my tongue, or I would be outta here. Due to Punching the Shmuck! He said he thought it may have been a virus or bacterial infection or womething, and he gave him strong anti-inflammatories. We Left!

I was fuming. Jesus that guy is absolutely useless. I know now why he is here: It’s the only place he can probably get work nowadays, cause he’s so incompetent. Probably got kicked out of his last job down south. 🙂

Well, I sent Sly home and went back to work.

Sly was feeling MUCH better when I got back to the house after work. Seems the stronger tabs had worked their magic! 🙂 So much better in fact that he cooked up a bit of a meal. Nice one.

Click.

Nunnsby

Easy Going Guy 😉