We now resume our anecdotes of our life down under, but will forever miss the faithful comments of '-just dad'.Part of the process of working legally down here includes going in to a doctor for that all important 'seal of health' so the government can verify that i'm not going to cause widespread panic with some communicable disease. An appointment was set and my schedule was cleared. Paul had already gotten his pat on the back for good health by a university doctor and returned with a glowing report of how pleasant the experience was. I could only hope mine would be the same.
Its a two day process. The first day you get evaluated, weighed, measured, x-rayed, and blood drawn. The second day you go back for your report of findings with the doc. I sat in the waiting room till my name was called. I was so engrossed in the book i was reading that Paul had to nudge me to remind me my name was Jessica when the doctor came out. I quickly followed her to the exam room. She lead the way into her room looking over her shoulder briefly to tell me A: she was the doctor and B: take off my shirt. I paused for a second thinking i hadn't heard her correctly. I thought she was just going to hand me my medical certificate and say i was good to go. She got to her desk and then turned abruptly toward me, her face expectant and tone demanding. She repeated herself. Where did this doctor train? Possibly back in Germany when black swastikas flew on red flags? I quickly peeled off my sweaty t-shirt. She had me go through a series of reflex tests and muscle measurements all the while barking at me about my health and immediate family history. She asked if i'd ever had anything major happen to me. I paused for a second thinking she could already read my thoughts and since i fault too often on the side of honesty, and by this point i was scared shirtless i blurted out that i had broken my neck back in '04, then immediately regretted it. I began backtracking. I told her i got the seal of approval from a spine and neurological doctor. The damage was already done and she now even more intensely interrogated and added i needed to take off my pants. I did so while asking if this would affect my visa status and she said she didn't think so but as she banged my knee with the knee knocker my left knee didn't jump as far as my right. It felt like she wasn't hitting it in the correct spot but this new discovery sent her into a tizzy and she wrote down that my left lower extremity reflex was inconsistent. She moved the knocker closer to the center and my leg flew out nearly kicking her in the kneecap. I sighed with relief. Maybe now she'd cross out or change what she wrote...clearly i was ok. Nope. The damage was already done. I was defective.
I'll find out if i'm immigration worthy in a couple more weeks.
PS. since this took so long to post due to lack of internet connection i have now found out that my visa request has now been sent to the medical assessor due to possibly having un-immigratable defects.
