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A little bit of drama (18.05.10)

I've been away from home for over a week now, and although I'm keen to get back, daily life is still a bit of a stuggle....

Today is Tuesday, and last Sunday night - a week ago last Sunday, that is - I was experiencing the worst belly pain I'd ever had.  Now, that is saying something, as I frequently have severe belly pain.  However, I try not to exaggerate the level of my pain, just in case it really could get worse, and this time it really had.  Adjectives such as "agonising" and "excruciating" came to mind, and as I was writhing in excruciating agony, not to mention the intense nausea accompanying it, I was exacerbating the pain in my hips, and messing up my back, just for good measure.

It's another measure of my new levels of pain and desperation that I actually asked friends for help.  I'm less rigidly independent than I was even just a year ago, but I have still stopped short of calling someone up to drop what they're doing to come and look after me (other than a parent, of course!), until now.

I have several friends that I knew would come and help me if they could, but it was 8am on Monday morning when I reached this point, and I balked at pulling someone away from work.  But I have a self-employed friend (everyone should make sure they have at least one self-employed friend), who, with his partner, have helped me out a lot in the past, and so he was the one to get the brief text message (I was too ill to speak): "Really sick. Can you help?"

So Steve came, assessed the situation (not pretty!), persuaded me to take a painkiller, and provided a bucket for when I vomited it up a few minutes later.  He called for a doctor to come and see me, chased him up, and helped me to pack a few things when the doc pronounced that I had a suspicious appendix and should be taken to hospital forthwith.

The three hot-looking ambolance men (one was very young though, a trainee, I think) made me comfy, and gave me one of those green whistle things for the pain (the doctor said I shouldn't have any other pain relief before going to hospital, so as not to mask my symptoms).  While I was being taken off to hospital, put into one of their gowns, put on a drip and asked the same questions over and over again (I need to get "I'm allergic to tetracycline and broccoli:" tattooed somewhere noticeable), Steve was taking care of Freddy and Dexter, collecting my things, shutting up my house and telling work colleagues that I wouldn't be in the office that day.

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