Confirm my suspicions
A few hours later I was explaining the events of the last two days to a doctor at my local hospital, he wasn't sufficiently qualified to confirm my suspicion. So, I was left to return to the waiting room while he tried to find a specialist.
Friday night in a National Health hospital in one of the UK's busiest cities, is an adventure in itself. It was full of drunks; drunks who had fallen, drunks who were fighting, drunks who wanted a bed for the night and drunks who were dying. There was shouting, singing, groaning and swearing, there was vomiting, spitting, farting and bleeding. 'This is quite normal' a nurse told me.
At 1am, I stepped outside and called Maggie. I explained where I was, what had happened and what I thought was wrong with me. I could tell she didn't understand. I said 'I'm just warning you, in case I am stuck in hospital tomorrow and can't call you.' I knew she would expect me to call in the evening.
At 4am, I was sent home. There was no one who could see me; 'you will have to come back on Monday' the doctor said. 'You must be fucking joking. How can I wait 'til Monday?'
I limped back to my car, feeling pretty damn sorry for myself. I still had one more surprise though. My car had been robbed. The suitcase, I'd brought back from Hong Kong was stolen, as were my CD's.
The next day, as the pain got worse, I called my doctor and asked her to refer me to a private hospital for an x-ray and tests. My employer paid medical insurance on my behalf, so I knew that the costs would be covered.
Early Saturday afternoon, I was admitted to the nearest BUPA hospital, where a specialist had been called in to give me a diagnosis.
He did confirm my suspicions.