On Public Health

Yesterday started with a morning fart. I doesn't often happen, but when I'm alone in bed it's fairly soothing to roll over onto my back and let out the ripper that's been brewing. But wait, there was more... I had to choke it off very quickly as the possibility of the worst of all fart-related things became evident - the follow-through. So at 5am I am making a dash to the bathroom with my cheeks clenched and my face drained of all colour.

This continues with amazing regularity. Then I start to vomit. Being a reasonably terrible binge boozer (this is definitely not a factor in this particular illness) I have a mental list of the absolute worst things to vomit. Bread and eggs have been the winners for years, but yesterday saw a new entrant blitz the ranks and come straight out at the top. Camembert. How much did I regret that snack before bed?

So by 11am I have a bucket beside the bed and I can barely move anymore. I gave in and called a friend to take me to the hospital.

It was about an hour and a half wait, which I thought would be longer. The waiting room has about twenty chairs that are plastic moulded seats joined together on bars. Try sitting on those suckers when all you think you can do is lay down and die. So I curled up on the floor. Finally they noticed me there and offered me a bed.

Eventually I was told that I needed to be put on a drip to replace my fluid. So I lay there going in and out of consciousness for a while. I recall waking up at one point extremely embarrassed that I'd drooled on the pillow, but most of it's a haze.

The amazing thing, though, is that I didn't have to fork out for this. I mean, you get hit in your taxes, but on the day I didn't have to pay a thing. I think that's fantastic. In the scheme of things, getting a litre of fluid pumped into your veins and having people look after you isn't that big a deal, but it still all costs money. I am amazed. What a great thing.