Shore Tumour
by Michael Franklin
Fred had a
health problem. He, in middle age, was a keen
swimmer as he had been all his life, and he
wondered whether wandering down to the local
beach regularly and plunging into the surf had
damaged him in some way. He was walking down to
the medical centre to sort it out.
He had always
enjoyed vibrant health, so he was not well-informed
when it came to medical matters, but he thought
he was aware of some of the threatening elements
that all humans had to face. It certainly was not
that nasty thing called Hippilepsy because his
tastes were traditional - and - because he kept
himself to himself, he never got involved with
Rumourtism. It could be Halfrightis because he
knew knew he often got things wrong. Newmonia?
Certainly not. He had been suffering this
discomfort for a long time now and had not
complained about it. Salmonella? No. He had never
had a taste for fish. Gonner-here? No. He was not
dead yet. Botulism? No - it was at a higher level.
Collarer and tie fuss. Unlikely as he never wore
a formal shirt.
Facing the
Doctor across his desk he got an instant response.
“Your worry is that ugly lump on your
forehead?
“Yes.”
“Well - I
can tell you immediately what it is. You are
obviously a swimmer?”
“Yes.”
“That is
evident, and let me explain why. Recent medical
research has identified a new benign tumour
source that is saturating our coastline. It is
thought to be caused by teenage boozing
overflows finding their way down rivers into
the ocean. The forehead appears to be the first
target for tumour growth because it is on the
front of a swimmer’s body and it leads the
way through the water. It is now known as Shore
Tumour.”
‘Sure -
chew more’ sounded like a greed
encouragement to Fred, but he did not pursue his
curiosity in that direction. A simple question
would do. “Can you remove it Doctor?”
“Yes.
Easily done. Tell the reception you need an
appointment for the treatment. One of our nurses
will have a look at it. When you come back it
will be removed by our surgery.”
Fred felt
reassured. Their Sir Jerry was obviously going to
be well qualified.
“Will it
be painful?”
“No.
Local anaesthesia.”
Okay thought
Fred. If their local Annie’s the easier, why
should he look for the harder!
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