The captain’s voice came over the tannoy.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to ask whether we have a doctor onboard the aeroplane. I’m afraid one of our passengers has been taken ill, and requires medical assistance.”
As a doctor, I leapt to my feet, a grave mistake for I smacked my head on the luggage hold and was unconscious for several minutes. I came to when a doctor put smelling salts to my nose – fortunately, by an odd twist of fate, the pilot was a psychic and had realised that I was about to crack my head open on the luggage hold. By asking for medical help before the accident actually occurred, he had ensured that a doctor would be on hand to give assistance as soon as I injured myself. How very thoughtful.
Moments later, another announcement came over the tannoy. “Ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to ask whether we have a doctor onboard the aeroplane. I’m afraid one of our passengers has been taken ill, and requires medical assistance.” This time, I refrained from leaping to my feet, but stepped gingerly into the aisle where a stewardess carefully upset scalding coffee down my leg.
Again, what could have been a disastrous accident was prevented by the pilot’s psychic powers for a doctor was immediately in attendance and applied soothing poultices to my cracking skin, thereby reducing the severity of the burns.
I settled back in my seat, only to hear another announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to ask whether we have a doctor onboard the aeroplane. I’m afraid one of our passengers has been taken ill, and requires medical assistance.”
This time, I stayed where I was. What a tragic error on my part. The doctor, tormented by what he saw as his failure to give adequate assistance to me was in a suicidal despair in the toilet. Because I failed to help him, he killed himself by disembowelling himself with a small plastic fish-knife. And to think, as a doctor of philosophy, I was perfectly equipped to help him. Life eh?
