Memes are great. In the thorny present of polarising politics, socially destructive Facebook* algorithms, and rampant inequality, plus large and unhealthy doses of pestilence, death, war and famine, they are a handy, concise way to express and share a whole host of human emotions and experiences. It seems Orwell’s Newspeak wasn’t far off the mark. And thoughtcrime is, arguably, already a thing.
I will plant my white flag on this issue right now – I’ve developed an engrossing meme habit recently, that runs the risk of becoming a social media addiction. Fatigue and left-sided pain have curbed my daily walks, which has had predictable knock-on effects on my physical and mental health. In an attempt to mitigate these, I’m slowly reintroducing reading, knitting and gentle exercise into my life.
(Flippin ‘eck, I just re-read that last sentence and realised how old and decrepit I sound! But I’m absolutely sure that my mind is still young! Which reminds me of a meme I saw recently, quoting Terry Pratchett: “Inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.”)
On the plus side, my recent scan came up negative for that cyst on my right ovary. I’m super chuffed not to have cancer. But I’m rather confused that I still have right-sided pain. Was it a duff scan? The ultrasonographer was so fresh out of the wrapper that she practically gleamed; plus, she didn’t do the side-to-side thing that her colleagues have done in all the other scans I’ve had – she just held the probe firmly in the middle of my lower abdomen, like she was operating some sort of slow-motion pelvic pestle and mortar.
Back to memes: I rather suspect, given posts by many others lately, that I’m not alone in using memes when I want to scream, or laugh, into the void, or simply just to drift through it for a bit. Or perhaps that’s what Facebook’s algorithms want me to think. Whatever, I don’t care. Memes make that easier too.
I recently (well, a couple of weeks ago) received the standard letter from my local health board, inviting me to book myself in for a cervical smear test and reminding me of the importance of regular testing (I’ll get round to booking it, honest. I’ve just been so tired lately. And there have been so many memes to discover.) Around the same time, I saw a meme that drew a hilarious parallel between a vaginal speculum** and a duck’s beak. Facebook must have been reading my mail, as well as my thoughts.
Now that I’ve seen the ‘duck’s beak meme’, I can never, ever, unsee it. Nor can I stop imagining the sound effect that will forever, in my mind, accompany the widening, vice-like action of the speculum after insertion: QUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCKKKK! Perhaps followed by a sudden, smaller QUACK! at the end of the smear test, when they pop that poor duck’s beak back out again. If the opportunity for a wee bit of hilarity doesn’t prompt me to book the sodding smear test, I don’t know what will.
*’Meta’ – pffffffftt!! – sticking a new label on the tin doesn’t reduce the health risks of the contents. I’m mostly in it for the memes.
** A speculum (turns out that it is, in fact, often called a ‘duck-bill speculum’) is a sturdy metal or plastic device, shaped approximately like a penis sliced vertically in half (or; like a duck’s bill – you choose), that is inserted by sadistic medical professionals into the vagina when they need to prod around inside you for a bit.
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