High contrast

There must be millions of these light fittings in public buildings and offices around the country. They’re not very interesting to look at and mostly, in the out of hours GP practice in East Oxford, I didn’t look at it. I kept my eyes shut and because seeing  anything was no fun. But, you know, for the sake of a blip… And there wasn’t much else in the offing.
 
The rest is an account for me. Please skip unless you have a macabre interest in things medical.
 
The swirling this morning was as bad as yesterday morning and the exercises made no difference so it was time for 111 (non-emergency medical advice in the UK). To my surprise – since I believe that most things go away if you ignore them – they said I had to see primary care within two hours and booked me an appointment with the out-of-hours GP service.
 
So another cab, but a bad-tempered, polar-opposite driver from yesterday’s who didn't bother to find out where we needed to be dropped. Once on foot we got lost at the huge health centre but were taken to the right place by one of a group of Poles who were hanging about on the steps. His ‘Bless you,’ as I went in through the door really touched me. I am often struck by the kindness of people who seem to live on the margins.
 
Our daughter turned up to reassure me (and probably herself) and she's the one to thank for me managing to take this image. Until she sorted me out all I seemed able to do was take appalling video of me lying bleary on a trolley. Now safely deleted.

The GP wanted me in hospital so I had my first ever ride in an ambulance on my own account then the promise of my first ever drip, as nausea had disposed of most of the fluid in my body. A dreadful nurse trying to find a vein stabbed at me seven times before such fluid as I still had emerged from my eyes and I told him to stop. A health care assistant came and succeeded at the first attempt.

So odd, feeling coldness pass into my arm. Then I slept before dreadful nurse came back to give me an injection. I had to brace myself as he came at me with another needle.
 
Finally the consultant came to sign me out and give me a prescription for anti-vertigo medication. I asked him about the training I was supposed to be running on Monday, which felt utterly unimaginable. He laughed. ‘No, that won’t happen,’ and told me to stay at home for a week. Such a relief!


Backblip. In real time I am on the mend.