So I didn’t want to, but I spent a large chunk of my Sunday in hospital. Usually when I pitch up there it’s to visit someone else, and to complain about the state of the parking lot… but today it was for me, and when I drove to A&E I parked flagrantly across the double yellow lines and silently dared someone to fine me.
I woke up this morning, and it quickly became apparent that I was struggling to breathe, and not in the usual asthma kinda way, which I’m used to and can usually manage. This was different. I could barely move without losing my breath. Still, me being me I was stubborn and put it off until after I had visited my grandma and realised the time for being a hero was over, and I had to get some attention.
When I arrived at the hospital the receptionist asked me a wealth of questions, which I had hoped he would avoid asking after the answer to the first one was I’m having difficulty breathing, but alas, he continued. Address, Phone number. Next of kin. Blah blah. Thanks for your consideration, sir.
I was in hospital for just over five hours, in which time I was given a battery of tests (why is a collection of tests known as a battery?), by a female doctor who, if she wasn’t making a second wage in the porn industry was certainly missing a great opportunity. She gave me a nebuliser, which sounds like an alien weapon but is far less cool, checked my blood pressure, and hooked me up to an ECG. I had assumed I would just get a course of steroids and be out of there in ten minutes, but to their credit, they were far more thorough than I had anticipated.
After all was said and done I was discharged with the previously mentioned ‘roids, and I felt a whole hell of a lot better as a result…
…and I didn’t get a parking ticket either.