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Wednesday 10th 55F/13C [7.30] Bright, breezy and sunny but a risk of showers.
Up at 6.30 after an awful night. Endless coughing. Last day of the antibiotics.
A nice neighbour dashed across to see how I was doing. It must have been quite spectacular. As well as slightly worrying. To see the resident, olde fart trying to fly. She quickly rang the ambulance service and explained the situation. I mumbled my symptoms and my history of heart problems. Coughing for a fortnight, lack of sleep etc.
The heart problems became the trigger for diagnosing a potential stroke by telephone. All this time I was still kneeling. With my eyes covered with my left hand to exclude all light. It was then that I began to decorate the robot trimmed grass with my porridge flakes. Repeatedly. Ad nauseam. Oh the shame. Not to mention the pain and acute discomfort.
The ambulance quickly arrived and there was now a multi-way discussion. Feedback to the hospital as they spoke to my neighbour, then to me, to a cardiologist and then to a neurologist. Probably not a stroke. Nor even heart related. More likely an erratic boulder in my inner ear.
The ambulance would take me to the more distant hospital. They promised no flashing blue lights. Nor any other unnecessary disturbance. The nearest city hospital would have been the obvious choice. For heart analysis and emergency treatment. I knew it well.
The ambulance staff had to physically lift and carry me. Over to the trolley/bed parked on the drive. As I felt I was flying loops and rolls. I knew it was a mistake to cover so much ground just for effect. Thus began one of the worse experiences of my life! A half hour journey while suffering from extreme vertigo on steroids. Every corner, braking or acceleration made me throw up into a bag. Several bags in fact. I was constantly afraid of rolling off the trolley. Despite the assurances that they had me strapped down as much as European Human Rights laws allowed.
Then the heart pain started. Exactly the same symptoms as my previous heart attack. Now they were talking about ordering the helicopter! I groaned and suggested we try the nitro first. A trip in a helicopter. While suffering from acute vertigo. Would have required a complete repaint! Not to mention the danger to passers by on the ground along our route. Unfortunately the nitro spray had no effect. For the first time ever. Usually it takes a couple of seconds for immediate and total relief.
Multiple ECGs [?] and other, on board monitoring, suggested no changes to my dodgy heart. No helicopter. We'd continue onto the distant medical hospital. Located by an accident of long and thin, coastal, county council boundaries.
By then the vertigo was beginning to lose its vicious grip. I began to experiment by opening first one eye. Then the other. At first the inside of the ambulance began to spin. Eventually I could open one and then both eyes continuously. Just as we pulled up the hospital doors! Now I was about as normal as I would ever be. I found myself in the company of these two chaps I had no dared to see.
Now I was obviously a complete and utter fraud. A bad case of false symptom advertising. Phantom symptoms! Just a few used bags of vomit and a muddy knee to my name. Unperturbed, the two ambulance staff cheerfully wheeled me into an acceptance room. Where I hesitantly achieved what passes for my version of upright.
The staff stood closely around me. Ready to catch me if I so much as wobbled. To my shame I did not. Then the pretty, duty nurse discovered that she had drawn the short straw. She wiped me down with multiple rubber gloved, handfuls of wet wipes. While the ambulance staff claimed they'd seen far worse. They weren't standing their sans everything with an interested crowd gathering! The room was already shared. With visitors and staff coming and going. The two ambulancemen took their leave. To my warm thanks for their rescue and care.
There followed assorted punctures and the application of a multitude of sticky things. They do like their electrodes but I kept my silly thoughts to myself. Several tests, with trolley mounted kit, were wheeled in at intervals. The doctor arrived and I was interrogated at length. He even dragged a mobile ultrasound unit in. So we both sat on the edge of the bed. As we compare me with a supposed perfect specimen.
He was really incredibly patient, very thorough and spoke fluent English. While I acted as Google Translate as needed. Making wild guesses as to the English version of Latin sounding medical terms in Danglish. I am quite helpful like that.
15.00 Eventually they decided I wasn't about to die. They'd had enough of me for the moment. Over a couple of hours I had rested at intervals reclining tastefully on the bed. Adorned in a giant pair of white toweling, hospital pants. I alternated my repose with sitting bolt upright on the edge of the bed. As the pain in my chest and back came and went apparently at random. There's no loyalty. Not even from your own bod.
I was given a prescription for penicillin for the cough. The present antibiotics clearly weren't getting the job done. They arranged a shared taxi free of charge and I was let go. Leaving with my profuse thanks to the nurses and doctors for all their kind efforts. I arrived home around 16.00. After a 40 minute ride in a mini-bus.
19.00 After a cup of tea and a digestive on my return. I must have fallen asleep at the computer. I have just made myself a milky coffee and a toasted roll with marmalade for dinner. I'll have another digestive for dessert.
I am feeling rather cold. A thick jumper has been added to the fleece jacket. A shame I hadn't thought of that earlier. I had discarded the vomit laden jumper from this morning's healthy exercise. It has gone into one of the laundry baskets. To be ignored. As usual.
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