Back Where I Belong?

Must admit, I thought I was going to die.

Started having a bit of a fit last week and I have to confess that for the first time in all of this, I really thought it was the end.

Back Where I Belong?

I was in the house and started feeling a bit odd. Then, after a bit of a dizzy fit, I started feeeling that my head was getting pressed down, couldn't speak but really, really felt for some reason that I was going to die.

So, I thought at this point that it might be a good idea to head across the road to the doctors and when I managed to spit out a few words over the desk, the lovely lady told me that if I didn't have an appointment, then I couldn't see the doctor and it would be best for me to head to the hospital?! I did feel a bit bad that I was drooling over their nice clean floor and I think that it was the prospect of having to clean this up herself drove her to send me through to see the doc!

I'm used to the wee tests that they give you by now. It tends to be the counting backward in three's from 20 (have to admit that I find this a bit tricky at the best of times...) and then the 'push your arms up against the doc's'). After failing both of these tests, he then decided that it might be an idea to pack me off to the hospital.

Once I got there, the were quite nice and after flinging me through the MRI tube again, they decided that it was just a bad fit, rather than anything actually getting worse than the original scans from way back when.

It was then time to have a wee night in the lovely Queen Elizabeth hospital again, rigged up to the usual bits n' bobs for the evening.

Now it does sound odd, and I said it before, but I really don't like having a room to myself in there. It sounds like a horrid thing to say, but when i'm listening to the alarms and seeing docs and nurses running up and down the stroke ward, I like to see where they're headed and what's going on in all the rooms.

Yes, it sounds like i'm a right weirdo but if someone's going to cark it (not sure if that's how you spell 'cark'??), it's kind of more interesting to see it, rather than hear the pandamoniam and see nurses and consultants battering it up and down the corridor??

Yes, ok it sounds bad to say it but me wanting to see what's going on doesn't mean that i'm actually wanting it to happen, it's just a bit of drama to pass the time??

I didn't see any dead bodies or anything when I was sneaking up and down the corridor and I also felt a bit more content about my own health when some old bloke mistook me for a consultant rather than a patient. If there's been any gear kicking about and if i'd been a wee bit more 'doo-lally,' I suppose I could've given the guy's blood pressure a wee check, just to help them out as it all seemed a bit busy round there.

So, when they'd attended to all of the more pressing incidents kicking off around the ward, they did come back with my results and told me that they were happy to kick me off back home, safe and sound!

Once I was home, the Mrs went through all of my meds and it was decided that I'd fucked them up a bit and that was probably the cause of all of this.

This morning I do reckon i'm still in the dog house a wee bit with my glorious other half and the subsequent huffing and puffing and slumbering around the house more than the dog does means that I definitely deserve to be shipped off to the kennels for a fair sentence.

So.....feeling a bit depressed this morning. Who knows.....maybe some housework might sort me out a bit??