The city, glimpsed through an ambulance window.

I had a ride in an ambulance in the early hours of Monday morning.

Only the second time in my life; the first was when I was ten years old and had an acute appendicitis.

I woke up at 2.30 am with what I thought was indigestion. This soon settled into a focussed pain in my stomach/abdomen. The pain got worse. I stuck it for as long as I could, then rang 111. They were very good and asked me some detailed questions. A doctor then decided that I needed hospital treatment, and arranged an ambulance.

Within minutes a paramedic had arrived at the house, quickly followed by an ambulance. I was being asked  questions, having my blood pressure, checked, heart tested, eyes looked into, temperature taken, then a blood sample taken...

Was this really happening? A couple of hours ago I had been fine, and now I was surrounded by medics with all their hi-tech gear. I knew one thing though: the pain was real.

One of the medics gave me a couple of pain-killers, then I was in the ambulance and on the way to hospital.

Amazing how a familiar landscape looks different in the early hours of the morning and caught in glimpses through the window of an ambulance,

Six am in A&E - No one in the waiting area. The ambulance driver decants me from the wheelchair into one of the seats. 'Good luck' he says, and disappears.

The pain is getting worse. I am sweating. After ten minutes or so I get up and approach the desk: .Is someone going to see me? The pain is getting worse.
A nurse is on her way, the man says.
She arrives, in her maroon two-piece overall - very smart - with stethoscope around her neck. She introduces herself. I don't catch her name: she is Pakistani or maybe Indian. I am so pleased to see her, reassured. She tells me what's going to happen. Tests: Blood samples, urine sample, blood pressure, heart trace, x rays, and a physical examination (poking and prodding).
Usually I would be filled with apprehension, but the pain is so bad I don't care what they do, so long as they do it quickly. 
I am shown where the lavatory is and given a little plastic container. Whilst in the cubicle I suddenly need a shit. Phew! That feels a bit better.

Then the tests: the different staff involved are friendly and efficient, and eventually I am back in my cubicle. 'I'm going to do a rectal examination' says my nurse.

 (When I woke at 2 am this morning I never thought that in the space of 5 hours I would have an Asian lady's  finger up my arse) 

 She calls in another nurse as a 'chaperon', and before I can plead: treat me gently - it's all done. No problem.

The tests revealed nothing untoward so, after being told to see my doctor to request a CAT scan,  I was allowed to go home in the afternoon.

Well, at least I've had a good going over.

Two days later my doctor examined me and said he would send me for an ULTRASOUND not a CAT scan as he thought I may have an inflamed gall bladder.

I'm feeling much better that I did a few days ago, and am now waiting to be called for the scan. If that doesn't show anything, then it's all a bit of a mystery. A mystery I would not like to be repeated.

Not a bad advert for the NHS, though?