Saturday, 30 May 2015

Saturday Silliness and Sickness


So I spent another Friday night, Saturday morning at the hospital, but this time it wasn’t my fault. In fact, I know exactly where the blame lies: Cleethorpes.
Unkind souls, particularly my good friend Paul Bell, Will say that’s not fair. They will insist that I have a downer on Cleethorpes because I’ve never seen the tide come in. This is true. Indeed, it was probably waiting so long in the cold in the hope that I might see the tide come in that gave me the chill, which allowed another chest infection to get hold of me.
So I was at the doc’s a couple of days ago where we went through the usual routine of listening to my crackly bellows and asking the usual questions.
“Smoking or non-smoking?” he asked
“I didn’t realise I had a choice.”
With a shake of the head, he went on, “Not been up to naughties on the beach, have you Flatcap?”
“Not in Cleethorpes, Doc. I was worried the tide might come in.”
Eventually, he prescribed the bog-standard antibiotics and while busy printing out the prescription he took a look at my other meds. This reads like a pharmaceutical encyclopaedia. If I came off all these pills, the company who makes them would have to lay off most of its workforce, and their share price would crash.

“You’ve been on these blood pressure pills for a long time,” the doc commented.
“Yes, and when Her Indoors winds me up, they’re not a bit of use. And if she winds me up on the day the credit card bill arrives, my blood pressure goes up so high it could light Blackpool Tower.”
“We’ll change the pills,” he said, ignoring my marital whinging.
So he did. He took me off Ramipril and gave me Losartan.
As always I read the patient leaflet. I’m not kidding, I’ve written shorter novels, and the side-effects read like an episode of Casualty.
Notwithstanding all that, I started on the pills and yesterday I felt dizzy and unsteady on my feet. Her Indoors never noticed. She reckons I’m like that all the time. But she did check on how many bottles of Old Fart Nut Brown Ale we had left in the cupboard.
The situation got worse as the day wore on, and I put it down to the FIFA presidency election. That system is so anachronistic I’m surprised they didn’t use leather footballs during the pre-debate kickabout.
Eventually, we had no choice but to whizz off to the hospital where the doctor, a pleasant, Asian lady, declared that it was the Losartan causing the trouble. It’s known for causing dizziness/light-headedness, especially when you first begin to take them.
“I never noticed that in the side-effects,” I protested to Her Indoors as we rode home.
When we got back, she picked up the leaflet and pointed to the very first line of the side effects.
“May cause dizziness/light-headedness.”
“Ah, well,” I said, “I didn’t see it because the pills were making me dizzy.”

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