Just as I was about to consign the painkillers to the bin I think I overdid it and suffered.
Been struggling sleeping the past few days - whether its morphine withdrawal or the excitement of Tony Blair's premiership coming to an end I'm not sure. Decided to break-out of the house and take Rufus for a walk (he's a dog, in case anyone wonders whether I do care in the community) - surely the exercise would do me good?
Anyhow, 'bout 11.30pm last night I'm suddenly in agony, struggling to breathe and Michelle's debating whether to wake the neighbour and ask him to drive me to hospital or whether to call 999 - while I'm overdosing on liquid morphine. The thought of an ambulance turning up seemed too much of a drama and would increase my carbon footprint, so we called the doctor's out of hours number.
A scouse doctor called back in 10 mins. He probably thought he'd called an 0898 line by mistake when I answered with heavy breathing. A few random questions later and he seemed confident my lung hadn't imploded.
"Can you come down to the hospital?", he ventured. "Whats the alternative?", I enquired. "Well, I'll give you a call back in an hour and see if you're OK". "OK, but can you ring quietly, we'll be asleep", I asked.
By the time he rang back the morphine had taken effect and the pain had all but gone, but boy had it been bloody painful - as painful as it ever was in hospital. Looks like I should be taking it easy and stay on the tablets a bit longer.
Had another PET scan today - so I'm radio-active for the evening. If you look towards Newbury tonight you'll probably see the glow. Back for the results tomorrow.