A Budding Romance
Mister E and I seem to have found ourselves in a strange love triangle. There's nothing weird going on, as the other party to this 3 way tryst is none other than the NHS. Hardly has my seat in the waiting area of our local hospital had a chance to cool down than it seems I'm back to warm it up again. I understand that as we age our need for health care can increase but for two relatively fit, healthy people Mister E and I are certainly surprising ourselves of late.
The latest visit found us seeking emergency treatment alongside various parents with children who had clearly injured themselves falling out of trees, participating in sport or undertaking something equally as imprudent. The adult patients (evidently retired too) had injured themselves with garden equipment or fallen badly whilst hurrying for a bus. All self-inflicted wounds and doing little to help determine whether you become more or less foolish as you grow older.
On this occasion I had gone along purely to give moral support to Mister E, whose injuries and story certainly fitted well with a department devoted to self-saboteurs. I have to say I even felt a little like the concerned parents, with a fractious youngster in tow, either that or I was haunted by memories of previous visits with the eldest and embarrassed explanations for the blood pouring from one wound or another.
Stricken by my heavy cold and remaining at home, I was not actually witness to the cause of Mister E's suffering but he had returned from the retirement project with a numb arm and pain in his chest, having sustained a heavy fall when he'd failed to react quickly enough to a sudden change in wind direction. Flung across the cockpit of the boat, he'd clearly done more than bruise himself although the swelling was atrocious enough. He had little time to cross the threshold before I was bundling him into my car for the drive to what seems now to be a regular destination.
Satisfied that there was no damage to internal organs, a probable cracked rib was diagnosed. X-rays weren't taken because it wasn't piercing a lung apparently; a real plus, in case we needed one. The arm was more difficult with a suspected nerve injury for which, can you believe it, we had to return for a trauma clinic the next day and now, of course, there are follow-up appointments to look forward to as well.
All I can say is, don't ever think you've got off lightly in the hospital visit stakes. If you are like us, your time will surely come!