Tales fae Doctor Festing Makadoork's case book. Mrs Clushet fae Faaldydykes.

Mrs Clushet o Faaldydykes.

Doctor Makadoork sat back fae his desk and teen aff his glaisses and pressed the brig o his nose atween forefinger and thoom for a minty. It hid been a gye busy mornin wi as muckle fowk comin doon wi the winter fever and aa seekin a cure for’t. He shook his heed nae wi annoyance but wi fatigue and the hope he himsel wisna comin doon w’t ana. Nae maitter he’d nae the time tae be naeweel. Pullin oot his pocket watch he saw that he’d a wee bitty time for a cuppy o tay an something tae ate afore he yokit the horse and gig for this day’s rounds. Gettin up stiffly fae his desk he readied his doctor’s bag wi some o the things he’d be nottin that day. Aboot tae leave he mind tae turn oot the lamp. Yestreen he’d wint awa and left it burning, wasting paraffin wisna the worst o’t? The thocht o coming back tae the hoose tae find it brunt tae the grun because he forgot tae pit it oot wiz far worse. Snappin the bag shut he laid it on the cheer aside the door and wiz awa tae gyang throwe the hoose tae the scullery tae pit the kettle on. Opening the door o the surgery faa should he find sitting there on the aal pew o the waiting room but Mrs Clushet fae Faaldydykes? He almost moaned oot loud but rallied himsel tae be pleasant wi a “Oh I didna ken there wiz onybody waiting tae see ma?” Noo Mrs Clushet o Faaldydykes wiz ivvery doctor’s nightmare. Een o yon patients that awaken each mornin and winder ‘Fit’s wrang wi ‘me’ the day?’ an quickly come rinnin if a fart in their erses gings wrang. In ither words a hypochondriac! Weel past middle age Mrs Clushet o Faaldydykes wiz nivvertheless as fit as a flea but always seemed tae be worried aboot different illnesses. Doctor Makadoork tried his best usually tae reassure her athing wiz aaricht and at a haafcroon for ilka consultation she wiz a good patient in that respect. Mair norr half his patients struggled tae pey the haafcroon an mair aften than nae they’d pey him wi eggs, tatties or a hen or twa. Michty he’d he’d a herd an a haaf o the buggers rinnin aboot the place somewye an divil o an egg hid he yet managed tae find?

“Ye’d better wun throwe tae ma surgery Mrs Clushet.” says he. Fair beamin she held her wye in and sat doon on the cheer as Doctor Makadoork wheeched awa his doctor’s bag in time afore she sat her doup ontae it. Gyan roon the desk and sittin doon he speired at her fit ailed her the day?

“Well.” says she “I’ve been noticing ower the last fyowe mornins that my een are affa weak fin I read the paper. Div ye hae ony idea fit could be wrang Doctor Makadoork?” Doctor Makadoork thoughtfully kind said “Well Mrs Clushet I’d better hae a wee look at yer een for starters.” He’d tae licht his lamp first for there wisna muckle daylicht penetrated the room at this time o day. He hid a look at her een wi his lenses for the job.

“Can ye see how my een are so weak in the mornins doctor?” speired Mrs Clushet. He stood back and rubbed his chin and athoot sayin onything he wint inaboot tae his bookshelf o medical beuks an selected yin. Takin it back tae his desk nearer the lamp he started tae flick throwe the pages and stoppin ivvery noo an then tae rin his finger doon the page as if lookin in mair detail. He started makkin tuttin sounds and slightly shakkin his heed. Mrs Clushet moved forritt “Oh fit’s wrang doctor, oh me fit’s wrang?” He looked up intae her pensive face still makkin a tuttin sound and shackin his heed. Closin the beuk wi a snap that made Mrs Clushet jump and takkin aff his glaisses he pinched the brig o his nose purely for effect and in a tone o doom said “Well Mrs Clushet I think I’ve found oot fit’s wrang wi yer een bein so weak in the mornin?” Mrs Clushet near in a state o collapse her hypochondriac’s mind started tae race and she managed in a reedy tone tae ask “Will I die o’t doctor?” Tae pit her at her ease he shook his heed sayin “Na na Mrs Clushet dam ee fear’s o’t ye winn be gyan tae the kirkyard yet quine?” The look o relief that came ower her face wiz a picter. He continued wi “The reason yer een are so weak in the mornin is quite straacht forritt and nae life threatening ava” he wyted a second or twa for even mair effect afore sayin “The reason is this-Mrs Clushet o Faaldydykes- yer een are in an affa weak place!”

end.

 

copyright © Patrick Hutchison