The one where LongTallAlly thinks she's dying…

Bit of a mixed up few days – ended up having to see the Doctor on Friday as I managed to lose all feeling in my middle finger – no, not from overuse flipping the bird! – and having developed nerve pain in it after a week of nothing but the odd tingle I thought I should get it checked. My Gp is so fab that he gave me a full check up just to make sure it wasn’t anything sinister and we shared a high five as he pointed out that my arm is now skinny enough (even with the masses of baggy skin) to fit into the small blood pressure cuff. It’s the small victories that taste the sweetest I think so I left there skipping a bit and filled with the joys of, well having a normal ish sized arm I suppose.

Fast forward to Saturday and I headed over to Gunwharf to meet up with Mum’s friends. They are my friends too though and I was really looking forward to seeing them. I had such a lovely day with them. On a side note I’m trying to think of blog nicknames for them but as they’re a double act and come as a pair it’s difficult. The names bouncing round my bonce are all existing double acts like French & Saunders (but neither of them are fat); Cannon & Ball (neither of them is a man or has a ‘tache) and Spiker & Sponge the evil aunts from James and the Giant Peach (most definitely neither of them is evil – they’re both fabulous). We had coffee and chat to catch up as it’s been ages since we were all in the same place and then had a wander round the shops, caused mayhem in Crabtree & Evelyn (I highly recommend their ‘La Source’ range for hands and feet – it’s bliss!) and then went and had a splendid lunch at La Tasca. None of us had been there before and so were bemused when the waitress offered to explain the menu to us, having eaten out before we figured we were quite well versed in the art of ‘ordering from a menu’. However she launched into her little Hispanic accented speedy rant whilst jabbing at the menu with her fire engine red fake talons and by the time she finished I was thoroughly confused. I was considering sitting there banging a spoon against my head just to take the pain away of trying to work out what the cock she had just said. We stumbled our way through and were delighted when a huge tray full of delicious dishes arrived and we got stuck in. I love spending time with them because I can talk freely about whatever I want and we talk about Mum a lot as a person which I crave because I only really knew her as a Mum and we giggle and they give me motherly advice and I always come away from seeing them feeling really loved and accepted.

I drove home and having been spurred on by their enthusiasm and pride about the book I sat down and did another chunk of writing. I’ve been so much more productive since moving the computer out of the cold unwelcoming spare room and onto the floor of the living room in the space next to the television. I’m battling with my concentration in a massive way at the moment and so find it much easier to sit and work in front of the telly so that when my concentration starts to flag I can divert my eyes to the goggle box for a few minutes before cracking back on. I know it’s probably not the recommended way of working but it works for me and I’m happy with that! Sunday wasn’t such a fun day. It started off well but then out of nowhere I was struck by the most intense pain in the lower centre of my chest that was radiating all throughout my middle and quite literally felt like I had been chopped in half with an axe. I pride myself on having quite a high pain threshold (3 days after major surgery I stopped all painkillers) but this was horrific. Intense. Scary. I was pacing the flat like a caged animal and beginning to wonder whether I should phone an ambulance as I had started to convince myself I was having a heart attack. I was hyperventilating and my arms had started to go a bit tingly, I was sweating like, well something very sweaty indeed and couldn’t get comfortable at all. I didn’t call an ambulance as last time I went to Hospital with chest pains not too long after having surgery I was made to feel an idiot and so I didn’t want to waste their precious resources. I paced, I cried, I shook, I tried to be sick, and then without warning the pain went away and I started to relax. I’d just about calmed myself down when …. Oh fuck here we go again. I had one eye on the time hoping that Phill wouldn’t be delayed on his way home from work as by this stage I was really freaking out but still wanted his advice on what to do (no, he’s not a doctor!) however the pain had once more subsided when he came home. He gave me a once over and didn’t seem unduly worried and so I spent the rest of the night lying on the sofa taking it easy and went to bed with only a small grumble in my belly. Man am I glad I was still alive this morning! Not sure what it was but I really did not like it one little bit!!


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