I wish I could swim like dolphins, like dolphins can swim. But the closest I got was the huge inflatable dolphin I clung onto during my earliest swimming lessons, while I was also wearing armband, a foam rubber float, and reaching out for the hooked pole the swimming teacher was offering from the side of the pool. And still I sank. I did eventually learn to swim, but my mum swears the instructor had a nervous breakdown first.
So it's been a tough few months. Moving house really took it out of me this time, and when I started back at work in late August, the bosses threw a load of stressful crap at me, forced a change on my working hours (which I've had for 8 years), and half my colleagues either quit for other jobs or went off on the sick.
Then, during a routine appointment to sign up at a new GP's, they found blood in my urine. Teeny tiny traces - 8 blood cells! - but apparently that's enough to fast-track you for a barrage of pretty serious tests. And I received one of the above leaflets in the post, something that nobody ever wants to receive.
Over the course of the last fortnight then, I've had a prostate & testicle exam (probably overdue), an ultrasound of my kidneys and urinary tract, and... best of all... an endoscopy.
"I thought an endoscopy was where they shoved a tube down your throat," a mate of mine said.
It wasn't down my throat.
"Up your bum?"
Nor up my bum.
"Well, where else are they gonna... oh."
Apparently the NHS will now happily stick a camera up any hole on your body, so why go for a big, boring hole like your mouth or bum when they can stick a camera up the smallest hole in male anatomy? The highlight is when the camera pushes through the sphincter that separates your pee pipe from your bladder (the thing that stops you weeing yourself). After that, they pump water up the tube to fill your bladder because it photographs better when it's full. All this while the doctor is telling you it'd be far less uncomfortable if you just relaxed.
"I bet you'd rather be at work right now," said the nurse.
If only she knew...
Sitting around in the recovery room, they gave out a questionnaire, the main question being "How likely would you be to recommend this department to family and friends?"
"You're doing a brilliant job," said one of the other guys in the room, "but... recommend this? I think I might have to say no."
The NHS is an amazing thing, and why anyone in their right mind would want to see it dismantled or sold off to the Americans, I cannot comprehend... unless there's a sizeable chunk of money in it for the ne'er-do-wells who want to see it happen, perchance?
Eight bloods cells led to a swift referral, in which time I've been checked for prostate cancer (no sign), testicular cancer (no sign) and bladder cancer (no sign). And my kidneys looked OK too.
"Blood in the urine is pretty common and the majority of times it goes undiagnosed," said the consultant. But they still wanted to get me checked out. And every appointment I've had was not just on time, but ahead of time. What a marvellous organisation.
So, fingers crossed, nothing to report. A few sleepless nights and a little perspective on the bigger picture. I'll see if I can get back to semi-regular blogging soon.
Last week's post about vacuum cleaners had less hits than anything I've ever written here. Which I guess shows that nobody is particularly enamoured by pop songs about household appliances. (So I'll be revisiting that again soon, dead horses need flogging.) I'll surely be on safer territory this week... everyone loves dolphins, right? (Although...that one above...is it just me...or does it look a bit like the Alien?)
Leave it to Prince to write a sado-masochistic reincarnation fantasy about dolphins... weirdo. Of course, considering this was written during the Slave / Symbol / TAFKAP days, its lyrics are pointing straight at his record company...
U can cut off all my fins
But 2 your ways I will not bend
I'll die before I let U tell me how 2 swim
And I'll come back again as a dolphin
From the York yobboes' debut album, this was their first single to crash into the Top 30 at the dawn of Britpop in 1994. They'd go on to much greater things, but Dolphin stands the test of time pretty well.
The video features Rick and the band performing in a waterless swimming pool. Can't help but think it'd have been more interesting if they'd filled it up as the song went on... but I guess there might have been health & safety issues with that.
From York to Bradford, and more brilliantly raucous Britpop hooligans... they were right about the whales and dolphins. (Terrorvision went on to name their greatest hits album after this very lyric, so it obviously meant something.)
This Dolphin was the London pub where the first aerial bombing of WWI took place. Here, Graham Nash asks if the world was ever the same after that fateful night...?
Written and originally recorded by Fred Neil (who also wrote the gorgeous Everybody's Talkin'), this is surely the most covered Dolphins song in history. Tim Buckley's is probably the most famous; Billy Bragg did a heartbreaking cover on Don't Try This At Home; but there's something about the dreamy combo of Beth O. and folk-jazz pioneer Terry Callier that just does it for me like no other...
I've been searchin' For the dolphins in the sea And sometimes I wonder Do you ever think of me?
1. David Bowie - Heroes
Arguably Bowie's greatest moment, with a little help from Brian Eno, Tony Visconti, and Robert Fripp on feedback. Strangely, it wasn't that big a hit when it was first released in 1977, but time has been very decent to it. Shows what the recording buying public know!
I I wish you could swim Like the dolphins Like dolphins can swim...