not funny any more
Last week I had a comedy arm. It ached a bit, and tingled. I announced I’d had a mild stroke. My work colleagues pointed at my inability to lift the kettle and laughed.
And then I woke up on Thursday to find I’d done ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson without the inconvenience of leaving bed. Everything hurt, I had problems breathing, and limbs would vacillate worryingly between burning pain and being completely numb. I booked a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday and hoped I’d slept awkwardly. By Saturday, when it was worse, we checked the NHS Direct site and followed its questions. “Call 999” it suggested. I didn’t, but I did see a doctor first thing Monday, and was diagnosed with viral myalgia (unless it’s not gone in a week in which case I go back to be tested for glandular fever).
I still feel fresh from the boxing ring, with my left arm in the worst state - making it hard to change gear and type. I came into work today thinking rest here wouldn’t be too different from rest at home, but I was very foolish. I realise now my swivel chair is far less comfortable than bed.
I’d tell you more about rude waitresses in Swedish restaurants, the sexual tension of nuns in the film Black Narcissus, and why I want Dan to win Big Brother, but it hurts too much.
And then I woke up on Thursday to find I’d done ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson without the inconvenience of leaving bed. Everything hurt, I had problems breathing, and limbs would vacillate worryingly between burning pain and being completely numb. I booked a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday and hoped I’d slept awkwardly. By Saturday, when it was worse, we checked the NHS Direct site and followed its questions. “Call 999” it suggested. I didn’t, but I did see a doctor first thing Monday, and was diagnosed with viral myalgia (unless it’s not gone in a week in which case I go back to be tested for glandular fever).
I still feel fresh from the boxing ring, with my left arm in the worst state - making it hard to change gear and type. I came into work today thinking rest here wouldn’t be too different from rest at home, but I was very foolish. I realise now my swivel chair is far less comfortable than bed.
I’d tell you more about rude waitresses in Swedish restaurants, the sexual tension of nuns in the film Black Narcissus, and why I want Dan to win Big Brother, but it hurts too much.