That little sharp pain I mentioned before.. it's become nasty. Since I started doing some core fitness training, which I had a funny feeling was a bad idea, I've spent 50%, more or less, of my waking hours on either codeine, ibuprofen or diazepam. The words 'either' and 'or' could be replaced with 'and' for a lot of the time, actually. It really isn't nice.
I went up the hospital to get it seen to, but there was a queue of about 4 hours, and the K and S waiting room is no place to be when you're in pain and christingly worried about your health. Mostly there were old people who didn't seem to have anything wrong with them except horror and disgust at the way the world is these days, which they were quite vocal about. Dotted around where slightly less old people who seemed, again, in perfectly reasonable health, in their cases the only evident malaise being just that - malaise. Probably not helped by being in a cancer-coloured waiting-room cum corridor filled with moany old pensioners. And there was a bloke wandering around in a gown, asbo bracelet round his ankle, looking like he'd lost his mum, or something.
Considering the fella on the phone (NHS Direct, one of the most savagely sarcastic names for a helpline anywhere) had told me I had to phone for an ambulance as soon as I mentioned heavy, sharp chest pains, I was a little perplexed that my condition had been deemed no more serious than that of any of these malingerers, and really quite pissed off about the whole waiting around thing, so I left. Consequently I haven't yet had any medical advice or attention. I'm not complaining about that - after all, I could have waited. But I could do with some.
So I haven't been training like I should have been.
The christmas period didn't help, of course. Had things to do, you know.. However, and how's about this for sad, I missed New Year's Eve cos of this bloody pain! Unthinkable, I know. A massive great piss-up, one of the few nights of the year where being a drunk 39 year old lolling around in a bush and smoking more than one cigarette at once because you've miscounted how many people you are is kind of acceptable, and I ended up sitting on the sofa in a kind of L shape all evening, watching The Great Escape and drinking quite a bit of red wine. Every cloud, eh?
I've lost track, mostly because the Diazepam is kicking in now. I'm not actually sure if I've taken any, but that's what it does to you.
Dinner is imminent. I shall return.