PILL AND POTIONS - THE FLOOR AND ME

I was really unwell this morning.  Some tablets given to me earlier in the week were the culprits.  I tumbled out of bed, visited the bathroom and dehydrated rapidly. Me and the floor suddenly made contact.  I did not know which end of me was where. Hubby's soothing voice broke into my fuzz and his strong arms  lifted me off the floor.  I was almost insensible.  I remember a feeling of minimal consciousness.  Only after the crisis had passed and my wits had started to revive,  did I realise what a horrible experience it was, and how lucky I was to have hubby at home to help me.

The first thing to do was to get some fluid into me to re-hydrate myself, then get to speak with the doctor.  He was alarmed to hear my tale and the moment I showed him the offending box of pills, he politely confiscated the box, saying he would dispose of the prescription.

AT THE HOSPITAL - CAN YOU DO THAT?

I was expecting to see the consultant for a triage assessment, the second one in thirteen months for the same issue. This was though, a different doctor from last time.   I had an  evening clinic appointment which gave us plenty of time to get there.

Because of the icy weather and long nights, we decided to take the morning intercity bus the 120 miles journey.  We sat back, admired views from the  new heights of coach seats, and relaxed.   We had to stay in a hotel overnight because there was no way to get home without a car. The last bus and train home from the town centre, ( about 3 miles from the hospital)  both left before 6pm.

There I was sitting with the man himself, who immediately acknowledged I had travelled a long way, "...And you were seen here last November for this problem." I was not sure if this was a question or a statement, after all, he did have the medical file in front of him.  Playing safe, I agreed  it was so. Then the doctor peered at me and said, "We can't leave you like that, something needs to be done." And he repeated it.  Well, I nearly fell off my perch. I heard myself meekly asking something like, "What will you do?" He explained the procedure.  " You mean you will do it now; can you do that?" The doctor gave me a benign smile " Oh Yes,  of course, you have come a long distance and this cannot be left."  That said, he asked the nurse to set up the equipment.

Hubby, who was in the waiting room, had to be forewarned.  There's no knowing what a fright he would have if I suddenly appeared looking like I'd been ten rounds (or, maybe five) in a boxing bout. As it was, he looked quite alarmed at the news of what was about to happen.

COULD YOU LOOK DOWN AT YOUR FEET?

I visited the GP with an eye problem under the upper lid. A locum was in situ, a nice person though not entirely confidence boosting. "I am not an expert on eyes", the doctor says.

Lying down on a couch to have my eye looked at was novel. And "could you look down at your feet?" I promise you, I tried.  On my back flat out, trying to find my feet was a bit too acrobatic for my eyes.  "It might help if I sat or stood up", I suggested......."No I want you lying down" said the doctor.

"Hm. Would you hold the torch and shine it in your eyes while I try something else, " requested the GP.  I dutifully did as asked.  I felt the lid being lifted; I screeched with pain and strained away, doctor jumped back, ...."that hurt did it, so sorry." 

No surprise I yelled, I saw that the doctor had been trying to poke around in my eye with a wooden throat spatula!!  

Should I make a quick exit...."I'm just going to put some drops in your eye....oops, sorry" as the orange fluid covered the whole socket and cavity.   The locum GP made a call to the hospital, for an eye specialist to see me as soon as possible. 

An hour and a half later, I am still in surgery reception - staff awfully sympathetic - waiting for feedback from the doctor, hospital, and a possible prescription, I decided to leave and wait in the comfort of my own home. 

Today, the eye specialist says I have an abrasion on my cornea.  No damn wonder.