Happy new erk!

When I was young in hard-drinking Geordie Land, you hoped on January the first, early morning, to still be up and dancing, which, usually I was.  Any adverse effects, it was hoped, could be postponed, or utterly recovered from in sleep, or in the obligatory bracing New Year’s Day dip in the North Sea.  Anything untoward was jolly bad luck.  I have had some of that over the years but…

This year I excelled with a trip to hospital.  Not suffering from the effects of celebration but post-surgical complications, which had been building for a few weeks.

When I vomited last night it was not the effects of drink, or anything I had eaten, because I had not.  I was terrified I had the adhesions back and rang 111, the emergency National Health advisory service.

Yes I rang for help at half past ten, on New Year’s Eve.  Will I never learn?

I have done a bit, perhaps.  Advised that the wait to speak to someone medically qualified could be lengthy, I went to bed.  I was finally rung at eight in the morning and advised, after a chat, to go to A&E within the next hour, in a rush.

Thoroughly alarmed I got there in an hour, showered, washed, dressed, bag packed but left in the bedroom.

Hurry up and wait.  Three hours later I saw a doctor, who had two opinions.  1) It could be the adhesions back again but was more likely to be a hernia or two and 2) It would be wiser to attend the scheduled appointment on Thursday than be admitted today when hospitals have a hung-over, overstretched, skeleton staff, you’d probably be better off if the cleaner (if you can find one) did your hernia.  (That last bit after the comma, is my interpretation of her facial expression – she was very expressive.)

Oh, happy flipping new year, this is so exactly not my idea of a good start to the year.

However, as I have pointed out in the past, it has only been the start to the year since the eighteenth century.  Prior to that the year began much more sensibly in March, when the astrological calendar gets going, the earth is waking up, the little birdies are singing and the lawn is sprouting a healthy crop of dandelions.

So I’m beginning my year then and counting this as a hangover from last year, when, come to think of it, in March, my physical problems really got started.

So Happy New erk, go back to bed (I am.)


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