I’VE always been a fairly healthy, if not particularly energetic, sort of guy.
Never had any major health problems … until now.
When I was younger, like most men, I considered myself to be and acted as if I was … immortal.
But just a few days ago I was gripped by the most ferocious headache that left me reeling and staggering about.
It was so bad I had to be taken to Arrowe Park Hospital near Birkenhead where they did all sorts of tests and a brain scan on me.
Yes, they found a brain, thank you.
Now I’ve been told I must avoid stress and worry – easier said than done if you live in 21st century England.
But I am being careful, because what happened really frightened me.
While these headaches are upon me I can’t even read a newspaper or watch television.
And I don’t feel well enough to use a computer, so this posting comes to you via the gentle clickety-clack typing of Posh Boots’ fingers.
I dictated it into a tape recorder for her, you see.
I remember the night before my brain scan. I was in my hospital bed with Posh Boots sat by me.
(She’s been brilliant throughout this, by the way, as have my friends in New Brighton. They’ve all been most solicitous about my welfare, and I’ve been touched by their kindness.)
Well, as I was saying, the docs had told me I’d been going for a brain scan the next day – in case there was “a bleed� in my brain causing the headaches.
So I remember looking up from my bed at Posh Boots’ lovely little face and thinking: “What if I die during the night and never see her face again.�
I couldn’t bear that, I really couldn’t.
Well, that was just me feeling sorry for myself, of course, and the scan detected no bleeding or anything else wrong, as it happens.
I thank God for that but it leaves the cause of my headaches something of a mystery really.
The treatment of chronic headaches is a complex matter, the medics told me.
I’m just hoping mine will calm down if I have a good rest and stop worrying about things.
One thing I know for certain. My blood pressure was through the roof by the time I got to hospital.
Some of the medics reckoned my monster headaches were related to hypertension; other thought they must be caused by something else. But exactly what, they couldn’t tell me for sure.
Anyway they got my blood pressure down, and, after 36 uncomfortable hours in an NHS hospital bed, I was discharged.
The nurses gave me a big bag of drugs to take home with me.
And the upshot is I have to be careful what I eat and drink in future.
It seems my days of carefree living are over and I can no longer consider myself immortal.
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Wallasey Dave wrote...
Hi Steve
Glad you are over the worst. Lets be brutally honest but exceedingly positive. Your age: 50. Average U.K male life expectancy: 77. You and the good lady can fit some bloody good times into that space!
REGAN REPLIED: Ah, Dave, I sure hope so!
Posted by: Wallasey Dave | January 10, 2008 7:14 PM