The doctor is in the house.

I've been down a little recently with a bad case of acute hemorrhagic conjunctivitis (AHC) which means that the whites of my eyes are no longer white, but a deep, rich and bloody crimson red, and it's turned my visage into one that evokes more terror than it normally does. (Although I have been getting perverse enjoyment from the reactions on people's faces when I take off my sunglasses and they see my vampire/zombie eyes for the first time. Well, aside from the little Chinese boy in the McDonalds queue, who turned whiter than me.)

AHC for those of you who have not had the pleasure of being infected is an extremely painful condition, the joys of which include but are not limited to bleeding eyes, swelling, redness and pain. So here I am at work last night, beavering through a fugue state induced in equal parts migraine, frustration and the haze of being on anaesthetic eyedrops, painkillers, more painkillers and psuedoephedrine, when I finally decide enough is fucking enough and it's time to head home. This was at 1:30am.

So I flag down a taxi, jump in, and ask the driver to drop me at the hospital I live a short walk from, and off we go. I'm lolling around in the passenger seat delirious with exhaustion and painkillers, and the driver is quietly appraising me as only Chinese taxi drivers seem able.

After taking in my shambolic appearance, swollen red eyes, lolling posture and desire to be dropped off at a major hospital, he puts two-and-two together and comes up with three.

"Late night call, ah, Doctor? Emergency, issit?"

I'm surprised out of my dreamy reverie, and try to set him straight, "No, no, it's nothing like that."

"But they must need you badly to wake you up like this. What's your specialty?"

I haven't even mentally shrugged and thought, 'Oh fuck it' when I hear myself declaring "I'm a Doctor of Phrenology." Just like that. No thought. Words were spoken before my sleepy brain had even registered what was going on.

Obviously this gives the driver pause, "Phrenology?!?"

"Uh huh. I'm a Phrenologist," I sit up in the seat, "I don't get called out often, but when I do...hoooboy. " And then I whistle. Whoooweee.

He's impressed, but only it occurs to me he's impressed because he has no idea what phrenology is...but it sounds awfully scientific and important and to be roused at such an hour when I obviously need my sleep means something awful's going down in Tan Tock Seng Hospital if they're bringing in the Phrenologist.

He's ruminating on this as I pay the fare and get out of the taxi, and as I'm closing the door I lean down and look him in the eye.

"Nice skull."

Damn. The shit that comes out of my mouth.