I really, really don’t want to revisit the past week. I mean, I’d figured the worst being-bashed-by-the-Incredible-Hulk-stuff was past me by late Monday, when I could do revolutionary things like standing up unaided, and stare at a screen for more than five seconds without wanting to throw up. I still reserve the right to throw up, by the way, if Rove McManus or Bindi Irwin are onscreen, at my discretion.
So good was I feeling that it was decided that my wife could head back to work; a man of my robust health could easily deal with two young boys on Tuesday, heading out to do the weekly shopping and having afternoon swimming lessons. So, Tuesday morning found me driving her to the station at around 7am, ready for her train to work. And then….
I felt a little tickle in my throat. Not such a big deal; I’ve been fighting this chest/throat/sinus infection for a while now, and the odd cough here or there is no big deal. So I coughed, and kept driving. Except that I kept on coughing, and started to lose control of the cough reflex. So I pulled over for a minute to catch my breath and finish coughing. Putting a tissue up to my mouth (I was coughing up gunk) revealed something that scared me. A lot. Little red flecks, growing with intensity in every cough that I did. Coughs I couldn’t stop doing. And then…
(with apologies to those of a light constitution, or those eating lunch. Look away now, and come back later.)
I coughed and simultaneously vomited. Large green chunks with streaming blood. Real horror movie stuff, but there was nobody to yell “cut”, and no food dye in sight. Instead, what there was was me, covered in a very foul and scary looking mix. Did I mention that I was, rather stupidly, wearing white shorts? Well, they were now carmine…
So it’s off to hospital in a mad rush, with Di also having to phone her very-understanding workplace (hurrah for universities!) and into accident and emergency. A department noted for how long one can wait unless you are in fact already dead. Then you’ve got plenty of time, I guess. Thankfully, it wasn’t too busy — not too many drunks fighting or junkies OD’ing on a Tuesday morning, it seems — and I was seen to fairly quickly. One cannula later, and they’ve taken some blood, and given me an all-new pain site. Then off for a chest X-Ray. And then…
We wait for results. My coughing has settled — there’s really not much left in my stomach or throat by this stage — and no more blood is coming up. Finally, the results come through, and they’re basically negative. So out of A&E I go with painkillers and antacids to stop it happening again; as far as they can tell my lengthy throat/lung/sinus infection (this has been going on for about a month now) had stripped most of the protection from the back of my throat, and when I coughed, I literally ripped the back of my throat open. I did warn that this wasn’t for the squeamish, didn’t I?
Since then, I’ve spent three days mostly in bed, in a lot of pain with no voice and the return of the Ferrigno-strength headaches to boot. I’ve also had a very expensive CT scan done of my sinuses; still waiting on test results for those. As of right now, I feel a whole lot better… but then again, I felt better on Tuesday morning before stepping into the car, too.