I’ve been waiting for hours at A&E, I’d much prefer to be in bed. I’m here because at 16:30 i started to feel queasy. Within an hour I was “ill in the toilet” (sorry) and within a further hour I was violently sick with a rather large helping of blood.
I felt immediately better but the blood was quite a worry, there was rather a lot of it.
Foolishly I turned to google, the font of all knowledge, the ultimate doctor. With my symptoms it could be only one thing. Anthrax. I’m going to die. That’s what it told me.
My wife urged me to go to A&E (before my googling), I’m finally convinced I should at least check it out. I don’t think it’s Anthrax, not really, but now there’s just enough doubt.
It’s far more likely that it’s the (stale) popcorn from the cinema this morning, the blood just caused doubt.
I’m feeling fine now, I should be out on the piss with my brother. Fuck. The doctors are visibly younger than me now. That’s cheered me up.
When the sick came up it was last in first out, boeuf bouringion, followed by mint poppets and then chief-suspect-number-one, the popcorn. Annoyingly it also contained a glass of fairly expensive french burgundy. Well, the contents of the glass anyway, if it had been the glass it would have explained the blood.
“have I got news for you” just started so the wait won’t feel so long in the next half hour.
Ten minutes past and the doctor calked me in. They’ve offered to take blood but I would have to stay for the results. I feel good and am fed up so I declined.
He then asked if I minded him “checking my back passage”, I replied that it would be the highlight of my week.
“please lay on the bed and pull down your trousers” he said.
“pull them down and get on the bed?” I replied.
“no, you can take them down once on the bed, to maintain your privacy” he confirmed.
I climbed on the bed and started to undo my trousers.
“I’m less worried about my privacy and more worried about you sticking your finger up my arse.” I said.
I wait a moment as he lubes up.
“please bend your knees and loosen up.”
“easy for you to say” I replied, “that said, however bad this is for me, it’s worse for you.”
He laughed at this, confirmed that all was ok and that I could go home.
I’m only allowed to drink milk tonight, I’m bloody starving. If anything happens again I have to go straight back to the hospital.
It feels a bit like a wasted night. I do feel a bit less worried now.
On the down-side, I got a finger up my arse, but on the up-side, I got a finger up my arse.
themiseryguts 