Anton Casey Sitch?


Anton Casey Sitch?

I will be writing a Post on this………..


Hermes Over Herpes Please. My Experience of Singapore’s Health Care.


Blog4‘Hermes?’  He queried

‘Yeah my ex wife had a couple’

After courting this handsome, gorgeous, sexy fellow for two months I had made every excuse under the sun to not fully get jiggy with it. This was becoming Medieval Torture for me in such heated moments. Some of my excuses consisted of….’Oh No (gasp-let me put my Drama School days in to play) I am  wearing Brigitte Jone’s pants’ or ‘I have a jungle of a lily’ (a lily for your guide is what I call my vagina, just in case in the future I should refer to ‘My Lily’ again you should be reminded that she is not a friend or a secret daughter & her postcode resides as my Singapore friends may describe as in my ‘downstairs’. This is actually the only place where they use downstairs where there are no stairs present as relevant or making any sense come to think of it. Anyway, so now he was privy to all of this absurd information; ‘Can you believe Watsons & Guardian are out of all of their razors?’ ‘This month my time of the month has lasted ages’ ‘Singapore must be busy there are no condoms available on the entire island?!’ ‘Oh is that the time I better dash before I miss the last MRT train’.

So jump back a few months before, my evil ex that is the best way to describe him and I had broken up and one of the many offensive jargon that he enjoyed hurling at me was ‘You gave me so many STD’s’. Now by this time his insults had become a sort of repertoire of the same offensive stories, but whenever he called me in a drunken stupor or mailed me from his work email address; so I am assuming in a sober, spontaneous rage he never failed to mention the STD’s that I had given him. They were news to me but the Asian in me, the hypochondriac of where if one sneezes they had better get an M.C, hibernate for a few days and of course have plenty of the all curing remedy ‘warm water’, I decided I needed to get checked out medically, not me entirely just my lily (remember right? Sorry and so sorry to all of my friends with daughter’s that share the name. Lily is a lovely name & Lily May was the most popular girl’s name for a long time in the UK, however we can thank the Brit Pop Star Lily Allen for that one not my Vee Jay Jay). One should always get checked out after they break up with a long term sexual partner anyway, it should be the law.

I googled the nearest ‘Lady’ Doctor to my home, made sure that my Lily was smelling like a bunch of them (here I should say the flower, I don’t mean a bunch of vaginas) and off I went. I chose a Lady as I did not want a strange man going down there, I had just rid of one that had turned out to be a stranger so I was all gun ho and not shy at all about a Lady Doctor visiting my Southern Region.

The clinic seemed modern enough and there were two patients waiting in the small waiting area, always a good sign, also they were dressed well, looking like business professionals and most important of all they looked well. The walls were decorated with certificates from Australia, not swimming certs or beauty school ones but proper, ‘I am about to see a proper Doc’ ones. So when my name was announced I was escorted by a nurse in normal clothing in to the Doctor’s Medical Room. I almost thought that the Doctor was a patient herself when I she greeted me, she was in her 50’s, her hair was mahooosive. It was styled in a huge, dyed maroon  red, bouffant style. If you needed hair spray to perform sexual intercourse I could have believably used this lady as an excuse to have consumed it all. Her make up which was so heavy if she were stranded on a desert island the local tribe could have used her face as a pallet for weeks for war paint. Huge non blended splashes of blue eye shadow, red lipstick and gloss that must be applied before every patient’s arrival unless her saliva was made from gloopy slime or if she had a plate of buttered corn on the cobs under her table, sneaking a bite as and when would only create such a well layered, shiny effect, whoever kissed this woman must get stuck to her lips for about a week. Saying that she had flawless skin, it may have been powered more than times than Hunter .S. Thompson’s nose but it was smooth, her cheeks resembled Aunt Sally from a children’s show I was fond of in the 80’s Worzel Gummidge (oh Worzel you spell it with a zed that isn’t good but that is he only time I don’t change my zed to an s for English rather than American spelling). This Doctor looked as though she had hopes of being a Singapore Airline Cabin Crew Girl but her brains betrayed her so instead she reluctantly became a GP however her dream never vanished and so she rebelled by wearing as much make up she possibly can. Her spectacle frames were as over sized as her hair yet she still managed to prop her eyes over them only in the cliche way of a strict Head Mistress. Her overly mascaraed eyelashes had smeared the glass, this would drive me insane but maybe for her it was an indicator for when she needed to apply more on. I bet the beauty counter staff don’t have a hawker meal for lunch when she stops by. Some people are cautious and paranoid if a war were to start so they stock up on food, this lady’s dressing table is probably an unaccounted share in L’oreal.

So we get talking, she is a Chinese Singaporean Lass and I like her because she is straight to the point.

‘Why are you here?’

I explain that I might be a walking STD carrier (she looks me up and down, in clear view as her eyes peep over her lenses) she gives me a choice to have an HIV Scan. I panic, I hadn’t thought of the big one yet, I agree to my blood being taken and I agree that this test will be expensive. A price for life is hardly a concern. She takes my blood from my arm, now if we were filming a documentary she would have been in danger of losing her job. She took at least five attempts. One of my imperfections is that I am ‘vainy’ so I politely tell her that her glasses are far from clean. She glares at me and if her eyes could have then they would have accurately jabbed me in the arm, so after enduring the pain of my blood test she asks to have a look down below. I would love to quote here Star Trek’s ‘to boldly go where no man has gone before’ but then I would not be in this situation in the first place and this blog is all about the truth, also how dumb am I? I always thought that that quote was from Neil Armstrong-see me writing this blog educates both you and I.

Where was I?

Legs akimbo on her medical bed I look down just to see and hear the bouffant speaking to me. She pokes me a few times as if she is doing the Morse Code. The only message she is giving me is ‘Maybe I will become a Nun now’ and ‘I hope your radioactive hair does not kill my clitoris’s sensitivity’.

‘Ouch’ I huff as she pokes one area

‘You have herpes’ she exclaims

Hunter .S. Thompson’s Fear & Loathing for this woman propels forward. Herpes? This is so disgusting, so I have cold sores down below. She gives me some industrial sized pink tablets, they are anti-viral ones, she says that I have to take them for the next eight years of my life, she informs me of a patient who suffered from Herpes without knowing what was wrong with her and they made her suffer from severe migraines but had she of had taken these bulky pink pills for (OMG five times a day) then she would be headache free. I am shocked, I feel diseased and I leave paying as quickly as possible. She tells me to return in two weeks for the Big One and other STD results, so my evil ex was right then. In two weeks time I go back and I am thankful that my results for the big one and every other disease including herpes is in fact negative. I ask the Bouffant why and she explains that herpes is either active or dormant so when I was tested there was not much active, she tells me to not get stressed and that if I contract a cold or the flu then this is where my new friend could appear again. She asks if I want more bulky pink pills, these, what have become a part of my diet and when my friends catch me taking one I explain that it is a vitamin. She also gives me a purple ointment if my lily should hurt. I recognise this ointment my Dad applied it in England to my poorly Grandad for bed sores. I suddenly go all Dragon’s Den (a TV show in England where you can give a panel of judges your invention or business idea to see if it will work so they can invest in you). What if I made this ointment in to a wet wipe? That would be much easier to use.

‘So make your payment Dear’ The Doc reminds me and I gather my thoughts away from The Dragon’s Den in to this lair where I have been given bed sore ointment to put down there. After being diagnosed I read loads about Herpes,

One out of five of the total adolescent and adult population is infected with genital herpes.

There are dating sites and forums for people with it too. Can you imagine Cilla Black on Blind Date?

‘OK Folks, we don’t have a lora lora surprises with these contestants, they all have herpes give it up for them, give them a round of applause’

Now flash forward to me & the sexy creature that I have been seeing. When I gain the courage to tell him of my STD, S-o T-raumatically D-isturbing he doesn’t quite hear me properly.

Flash forward from the bedroom scene to a weeks forward.

My Lily is not sore, the world wide web tells me I have ulcers down there, the test on paper says I don’t have herpes, I have finished the Bulky Pinks and I am off for a second opinion. What I have neglected to inform you guys is I did have a forage down there and my index finger met with a bump. It was not sore but it is defo a foreign object, no it doesn’t rotate or need batteries and besides I have never used one, saying that they are a way to battle the increase in the herpes stats, well if it were just out of their packaging, never have been used one of course.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda I go to another Doctor, one in a hospital here this time and guess what? I have a cyst, a harmless Bartholian Cyst. Basically it is when the Bartholian gland gets blocked a cyst forms and let me copy & paste wiki for you…………..

‘A Bartholin’s cyst can grow from the size of a pea to the size of an egg. Cysts are not sexually transmitted. There is no known reason for their development and infection is rare. However, even with an abscess, a bacterial infection or STD is not the cause’.


However this does not change what I had to go through. I had to pop those pink bad boys five times a day, I thought that I really was diseased, I thought my ex was right on something for once, I changed my towels as many times as a Sumo Wrestler eats bowls of rice. I had to go through a humiliating moment of telling my now boyfriend that I had herpes!

However I empathise with those that have it and I understand how life challenging this STD is. Some people had to change jobs if they became too hot down there and all sorts.

I have not been back to the Tai Tai to scold her for her misdiagnosis nor told her off for the blood test that she took making me look like a involuntary Trainspotting extra but I might. She may have been genuine and thought that I did have the H but then again why ask me to take 8 years of a tablet? Did she want me to fund her lip stick cost?

Whenever my friends or colleagues sneeze, they seek medical attention which leads them in to buying pills and medication when really these should be crucial at home things. When we have a cold drink honey and lemon, cosume Vitamin C or nosh a curry. I am afraid now that some Docs will prescribe anything for a few bucks here and there. I don’t mean Micheal Jackson Doc stylee but you get me right?

So for the people in the UK, we have free medical care. It is called the N.H.S which stands for National Health Service. I see on my Facebook that you moan about the time it took for a nurse to see you or what have you but can I point out. IT IS FREE also nurses get paid hardly anything at all. If the same thing had happened to me back in England from the N.H.S I could probably make a complaint and get a free boob job or something. We are way to soft in England but I love it, we are kind and stupid.

So back again to the bedroom. I can thank the Misguided Doc for her diagnosis because The Boy and I discovered Tantric Sex by default, he certainly is not misguided when it comes to my Lily (I shall use a capital L from now on).

‘No not Herpes Hun, I have herpes’

‘Oh, I see. That’s Ok, let’s wait until you are well again. It doesn’t put me off you.

Me cringing and turning Fire Engine Red.

‘It explains the razor and Brigitte Jones stories when you shop in La Senza’ he says

Wow he is attentive too!

So in the words of Neil Armstrong,

‘The Eagles Has Landed’.