On the Starship Enterprise under Captain Kirk, Star Trekkin' across the universe,
Only going forward 'cause we can't find reverse.
A 1987 chart topper by a spoof band called the Firm, making parody of the characters and catchphrases from Star Trek. It went straight to Number one, where it managed to klingon for 2 weeks
Which leads me boldly going forward to this weeks medical matters in my small universe. Last week I got to experience a procedure so alien to me, that it could come straight from Vulcan itself. Thanks to the malicious workings of my new organ and it's malign impact on perfectly innocuous drugs, I was about to experience a replacement anti biotic for the Co-trimoxazole, which I must say sounds like a 15th Century Mayan leader batting against ancient alien invaders.
The new anti biotic is called a Pentamidine Nebuliser, which I was convinced was a galaxy somewhere beyond the solar system, just turn left at Sirius Major and continue for 32 million light years until you pass a BP garage, pick up a manual, then turn right just before the collapsing star.
But no, a nebuliser is basically a face mask which you breathe into, thus absorbing the drug into your lungs. But wait there's more, first you have to have another drug called Ventolin (yes the Asthma one) to open up the lungs to make absorption of the Pentamidine easier. This is delivered by another nebuliser, “set for stun Cap'n”
Off I trotted to the nebulising ward which contained a strange collection of beings confined to beds and chairs all inhaling through facemasks (“It's life Jim, but not as we know it”), rather like a scene from Alien 3, but minus Sigourney Weaver and populated instead by Hildas, Muriels and a Dennis.
Ushered to my allotted captains' chair, I settled in for a quick nebulise.
I looked over to my left and observed the strange elderly creature positioned next to me (There's Klingons on the starboard bow, starboard bow, starboard bow) sucking noisily through her mask, and whiffs of inhalant escaping through the breathing holes. Yikes, she looked more like the Alien Queen, steaming and gurgling as she inhaled her ventolin, or was it really some strange gas to aid her egg laying?
I turned away from this awful scene and glanced to my port side, and was aghast at the slumped gentleman in the chair adjacent, was he asleep as he dribbled from his nebuliser? (It's worse than that, he's dead, Jim, dead, Jim, dead).
Relieved to see him snort and cough, I commenced my treatment by joining in the mass collective nebulising, and struggled valiantly with the gas and steam, breathing in and then exhaling through the same mask. How was I able to breathe with this contraption on? (Ye cannae change the laws of physics, Jim)
After what seemed to be many light years, I was teleported to a separate room, where stage 2 of the launch procedure would occur with yet another nebuliser, this one looking like a white phaser gun (We come in peace, shoot to kill, shoot to kill, shoot to kill;
we come in peace, shoot to kill)
The nurse then explained that since the gas was toxic to some female cells and could kill the ovaries, I was to be left alone in this sealed chamber as I absorbed these so called cytotoxins. Thankfully I don't have any ovaries, unless during the transplant surgery a couple slipped inside by mistake. You hear such stories of careless doctors..........
As I absorbed the gas I became conscious of how I was morphing into the alien collective outside, sharing a group mind meld. Allowing for some quite strenuous hyperventilating, I sucked in deeper and deeper (Och, if I give it any more she'll blow, Cap'n!)
After a while of spluttering and gargling on gas, I finished and left the air locked chamber.
“ Everything Ok?” asked the nurse, ovaries presumably intact, protected by the enormous reception console.
“ Yes, Affirmative”
“See you next month then and have a good journey home”
“Yes, thank you. May you live long and prosper.”
And with that I swish-swished out the door.
Enjoy the video......
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