“Mr Barton, there are more sparrows in the sky than parrots” he explained. He, to clarify, was my GP. The Chinese philosopher trick worked a treat - I was doubly reassured. Not only was my doctor a great thinker he was confident that my dizzy spells were of the common or garden variety - dull, of little interest and he saw plenty every day.
Maths had never been my strongest subject, I couldn’t see the beauty in it. I was an artist and art was beautiful. Today though, the laws of probability looked pretty damn good. My ears probably needed syringing - I wasn’t going to die.
I admit my feathers had been ruffled for two or three weeks prior to my visit to the doc. I didn’t do dizzy spells, I didn’t do lots of emotional outbursts either; rage, tears, giggling fits. Nor did I usually have very strong opinions on just about everything.
I will always remember, like anyone else who saw it, the Melvin Bragg interview with Dennis Potter, as he was losing his painful battle with cancer. He described how simple things, ordinarily passed by in the hectic normality of life, were brought into sharp focus. In the knowledge that they would soon be gone, they burned brighter and were savoured. Or as that extraordinary man put it - “The blossomiest blossom.” “The nowness of now.”
The doctor struggled with this symptom. “Everything seems too real you say? You feel too aware?” he asked. He hadn’t seen the ‘Nowness’ interview unfortunately. Nor was poor Dennis around to make him understand. I was on my own, and presenting all the early indications that I was becoming an adolescent werewolf.
"What possible medical connection could there be to all of the aforementioned symptoms?" I thought as I lay on a paper sheet, trousers lowered and knees bent up towards my chest. Determined to get to the bottom of my mysterious condition, two unreasonably fat fingers nudged their way through the darkness towards some kind of enlightenment. Sadly, even armed with my newly found set of strong opinions, the sun did not shine out of my bum and throw a little light on matters. What he thought might be causing dizzy spells up there, I couldn’t imagine. A forgotten kilo of badly wrapped cocaine maybe? I didn’t smuggle drugs and it was too early in our relationship to push for answers, so I let the moment pass.
“Relax” he muttered to himself, as he withdrew none the wiser. “Make an appointment with the nurse and we’ll sort those ears out ” he instructed, peeling the latex from his fingers. No orifice was to be left ‘unsorted’.
I didn’t make the appointment. I decided to leave it for a couple of weeks and wait for my sense of smell to heighten and hair to grow coarser. It would be a full moon by then and everything would become clear.
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