Friday, 2 April 2010
Good Friday feeling sick
I hereby rename this Good For Nothing Friday. I am being forced to go to work. The coffee table has just collapsed under the weight of a coffee cup. The kitchen sink is blocked and smelling. And my tickly cough has developed into a full-blown, burning of the tonsils affair, and I am hacking up a vile green substance. It's as if my body knows I have a week off in the pipe-line.
I never used to get ill before London (BL). The only time I visited hospital was when I broke my elbow in a freak falling-out-of-a-tree accident in Scotland. Now I am forever heading to the office with a handbag of pharmaceuticals and a dripping nose. I've had what was either food poisoning or the norovirus for the first time. There's also the ear problem, which has baffled the experts, where my left ear goes completely deaf. I recently found out I have coeliac disease - which means I cannot eat gluten as it strips away the lining of my intestines. Yum. This was diagnosed by an endoscopy - where a tube is shoved down your throat into your intestines to scrape away samples and take some photos. I presumed the tube would be little bigger than a strawberry shoe-lace. I was wrong. I had to be pinned down by a couple of nurses as a specialist rammed a cable, not dissimilar in length and width to a link of Cumberland sausages, down my gullet.
Don't get me wrong. I count my blessings that I'm not troubled by anything worse than this. But I do think London should carry some sort of health warning.