’Twas the night time earlier than Christmas, when all by the home not a creature was stirring … besides the sound of me groaning in agony as a consequence of an insufferable stabbing ache in my intestine.
It truly started a number of nights earlier than Christmas – throughout peak festive mayhem. I used to be juggling Christmas events, tree-decorating and shopping for costly presents for adults who didn’t want them. I’d additionally crammed in a last-minute gymnasium session in an try to “make room” for the upcoming roasties, mince pies and morning espresso with Baileys. Initially, I assumed I’d merely pulled a muscle and determined to stroll off my pressure with one other bout of Christmas buying. I can not assure this didn’t make issues worse. By the point I bought dwelling, I used to be doubled over in agony.
My associate arrived again later to seek out me within the foetal place, writhing on the toilet ground, tipped-out buying bag of festive decorations strewn round me. It appeared like a nativity scene crossed with a drunken night time out. Regardless of his insistence, I refused a visit to A&E. All through the night time, the ache bought worse, till I used to be vomiting each hour and went into what we later discovered was septic shock.
Once I finally conceded that maybe we should always name an ambulance, paramedics promptly hooked me as much as an ECG machine however have been unable to discover a heartbeat. I used to be fairly certain I used to be nonetheless alive, however the machine disagreed. It turned out it hadn’t been plugged in appropriately; solely the paramedics discovered this amusing. My associate reeled, I vomited into the bin, and our cat, Hobbes, walked out in disgust.
Once I arrived on the hospital, A&E resembled an workplace Christmas occasion deliberate by Devil himself, however I used to be glad to be within the protected fingers of unimaginable medical doctors. Save your pity for my boyfriend, who didn’t know which hospital the ambulance had taken me to and was left to exit of his thoughts with fear when nobody would inform him. In the meantime, I had been given fentanyl and was excessive as a kite that had been given fentanyl, having a jolly previous drug-induced fantastic Christmastime.
The surgeon was 75% certain it was appendicitis. I preferred these odds, and so I used to be whisked to surgical procedure, my appendix was eliminated, and I discovered myself again on the ward consuming toast earlier than you may deck the corridor with boughs of holly. I used to be discharged the following day, however my Christmas plans have been thrown into disarray: I used to be bedridden, may solely handle to eat plain toast and soup, and I used to be beneath strict directions to not carry something for six weeks – together with my beloved cat, not that I believe he minded that a lot.
There have been no boozy coffees, mince pies or roasties, however as a substitute of fussing over decorations and sporting an itchy Christmas jumper, I accomplished The Witcher on the PlayStation and rewatched all of Nashville. And actually, what’s extra festive than that?
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