Tuesday, November 29, 2005

An okay day (I suppose)

With some trepidation, I answered my mobile phone, knowing it was Duncan (not real name).

You see Duncan had been diagnosed with Stephacockaliticus B the terrible viral condition that affects the calf muscles and the gene that controls your ability to speak at socially audible volumes in public.

Today was the day he got the results from the radical therapy he had recently undergone.

We’d first become aware that something was wrong with Duncan when he continually shouted at a small luncheon we had organised for another friend Suze, who was about to move to Africa to work with Médecins Sans Frontières.

At first it was rather embarrassing, especially the time we were almost ejected from Waitrose when Duncan boomed, “Mate, where’s the lemon grass?” Almost giving an elderly customer a heart attack, who had only ever heard some shout once before, during a pathé film about the air raids in London in 1942.

Then came the increased mass in his calf muscles. Dunc swore blind that he wasn’t working out and that the tone the lower part of his leg had developed had occurred over a short period of time.

It was at this point that Dunc got himself checked out by a quack, and the truth was revealed, he did indeed have Stephacockaliticus B.

As my faithful readers will already know, I myself was diagnosed with Stephacockaliticus A (the much more serious and headline grabbing version) earlier this year (here) and have documented my brave battle with it ever since (here and here and a bit here).

Obviously when I heard about Dunc’s condition I was devastated; everyone’s attention and sympathy and been solely focused on me, now I was going to have to share it with Dunc’s frankly less serious dose of Monks (the slang name for Stephacockaliticus).

Dunc never let his condition get him down; he faced the illness with the same inherent middle class grit that you would expect from an ex-rugger bugger and former public school boy. In fact during the initial months he positively prospered and my courageous, annoyingly handsome, vaguely amusing in a calling me a gay all the time way chum friend just got on with things, despite his own so-called ‘transitory’ homosexuality.

In September a Doctor suggested Dunc try a new course of tablets which would blend with his privileged gene, giving it an extra shot of arrogant superiority which would hopefully combat the Stephacockaliticus B bug which it turns out Dunc contracted after a one night fling with one of the townie slappers he claimed to be ‘doing a favour’.

And today was the day Duncan was due the results.

The news is that Dunc has the all clear. Which I am a bit pleased about, but not that much.

I sit he writing this knowing my fate is far less certain. And if the truth be known, I wish it were me that was free and clear and not Duncan.

Does that make me a bad person?

Please don't forget to leave your gushing comments of support for this person you have never meet and can't actually be sure exists.

That is all.

16 comments:

Sniffy said...

Oh wow, poor Dunc, that must have been some terrible suffering for him. I think you've coped really well, having his illness on your mind, oh and your own of course.

I know when I had a friend who had a nasty head cold, I was worried sick for about a day, just in case I caught it off them. My immune system is better than most people's because of my mongrel genetic makeup - or should that be mongol?

Stephacockaliticus awareness day: 1st December. Oh, that's AIDS.

Stephacokcaliticus Awareness Day: 2nd December. Don't die of mispronunciation.

Sniffy said...

Well, it's encouraging to see how many well-wishers your friend has here. There's clearly a lot of stigma attached to stephacockaliticus and you should've chosen a friend with a more comment-worthy and less leper-like disease.

cali said...

Dunc is clearly one of those tremendously fortunate one-in-a-million individuals immune to the ravages of this dread disease (easier to spell). I strongly suggest he drags his lucky ass down to the offices of the News Of The World to sell his amazing story for nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine quid, one pound for each of those less fortunate than him.
As for you, sorry pal, you're fucked.

MHN for short said...

Poor Herge, poor, poor, poor Herge.

Can't feel sorry for Duncan; he's on the mend.

Poor sweet fragile talented yet screwed Herge.

After you die your family will make a fortune from the material one this blog.

such a tragedy...

Ship Creak said...

Well, I've met you (although not for a while), and I'm fairly sure you exist.

I think...

Piggy and Tazzy said...

Ooooh! I havent been to a he-died-of-a-weird-disease funeral for bloody ages!

Do I need to buy a new hat? Oh wait, thats the wrong occasion. Do I need to buy some hankies?

*practises sad look*

MHN for short said...

A hat and sunglasses would be appropriate, with a nice white hankie.

Sniffy said...

And a cigarette in a cigarette holder, being pushed in a wheelchair because you're so devastated that you can't stand up.

Anonymous said...

Let's not forget who said that first.

weenie said...

What can I say except err...get well soon?
Hurrah for Dunc!

Disco Bear said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
MHN for short said...

Oh, and the hat has to be able to block out the sun for a whole city block. Giant rim!

Faltanus said...

is it at all significant that the "screen" name you chose for this supposed friend of yours just happens to be the name of your dog? i find this highly suspicious. and my suspicions are getting in the way of my ability to feel sympathetic, which isn't all that good under the best of circumstances.

Faltanus said...

shit....no wait, your dog is Dixon. Dixon, Duncan, Daisy....oh hell, it's all too much for my feeble mind to keep track of....any way, this hasn't helped me one bit in terms of my ability to feel sympathetic. oh well. to hell with Duncan i say.

red one said...

This inspiring story is so inspirational that it deserves to be retold so the whole world can be inspired. I urge the next ten people who read this to repost Duncan's story on your own blogs. We may not know Duncan, but there is a Duncan in all of us. Inspiring!

Thank you, Herge for your inspiring and inspirational post. And thank you, Duncan!

Rowan said...

aww,w, poor herge, I"m sure you'll be in the clear too in a tickety boo! no fears, and I can't even say it! How do you feel knowing ;you have this terrible disease? :)