A retired Karratha teacher has recounted an awkward ordeal at the doctor’s this week, after it turned out his specialist was a former student of his.
Phillip Albert, 68, a former history teacher at Karratha Senior High School, visited his local GP for what was expected to be a standard check-up of the old fleshy garage door.
Ordinarily an uncomfortable experience, Mr Albert had grown to accept it as a necessity after a decade of appointments.
That was until it dawned on him the man who walked into the surgery was a former student of his.
“It took a moment or two to register,” he told the Bugle, shifting uncomfortably on a plush cushion hours after the appointment.
“Then he cried out ‘G’day Mister Albert! Remember me?’.
“Well of course I soon remembered him – a right trouble-maker, he was.
“He’d sat through many afternoon detentions under my watch.”
The gravity of the situation dawned on the old feller when firm instructions came through that they were about to begin.
Sweat swelled through his pores as the moment of first contact drew near, and his former student directed him: “Just drop your pants on the floor there and bend over against that plastic table, thanks Mister Albert,” his former student said in an uncomfortably schoolyard tone.
With a gentle lubing of the inspector’s latex glove, the procedure got underway – the specialist soon quizzically prodding, poking, squeezing and scratching inside for that golden nugget hidden just beyond the dark entrance of his forbidden cave.
“You need to lay off the preservatives, Mister Albert, it’s getting a bit snug in here,” the doctor told him with a chuckle, tongue poking out between his clenched jaws.
“The roles have reversed from the old days, haven’t they!”
Things took a turn for the worst when the doctor told him he’d need to get a bit more heavy-handed than Mr Albert might be used to: digging further, now with three fingers stretched wide, and scratching like a Gollum chasing the golden ring. Mr Albert squirmed uncomfortably against the cold benchtop.
“You’d be amazed at the stuff we see in here,” the doctor told him.
“But you’re not looking in too bad a shape,” he said, spitting onto his hand before pushing further in.
Then, with a swift pluck like that of a bubble wrap bursting, he extricated his hand: a little bloody, a little brown, but with the good news that all appeared in the right order.
“I’ll just be outside speaking with the nurse – come out when you’re ready,” the doctor told Mr Albert.
A touch sore and strained, the retiree gently pulled his pants back on: left leg, then the right, and buckled his heavy RM Williams belt around his waist.
He felt different. Hollow, but somehow restored – like the anxiety that had shocked him after the initial meeting had been poked and squeezed away.
Behind him, the sound of the surgery door creaked open. From where the former student had stood just a few moments before, a nurse’s head popped through the gap.
“Sorry about the wait, Mister Albert,” she said apologetically.
“The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Mr Albert stared blankly at the wall.
MORE TO COME
