Interesting start to the week. I collapsed in the toilet at work today. Twice. First time I was in the cubicle, saw sparkles, everything went black and I nodded off. I woke up, scrambled out of the cubicle and collapsed on the floor next to the sinks. I don’t know how long I was there but a colleague found me and fetched our resident first aider.
Things are pretty hazy but I was deemed out of it enough for an ambulance to be called The paramedics were brilliant and I was whisked off to St Thomas’ for further examination.
I’m not sure what was more embarrassing: doing an Elvis in the toilet or our Chief Exec popping his head round the door of the ambulance and wishing me well. I felt so daft.
The staff in A & E were great (going in an ambulance gets you first class service) and I quickly had bloods taken. I had a bit of a wait to see a doctor but things moved quickly after that and I was hooked up to a drip and had an ECG.
All of the tests – thankfully – came back negative but my iron levels are borderline so I need to see my GP.
I was accompanied to hospital by our office manager, who was fabulous throughout and waited until Dh arrived (keeping him updated via text) before departing.
Apparently my blood pressure was 54/80 at one point which is apparently pretty bad, but once I was in hospital I recovered quite quickly and was able to come home this afternoon. I still feel spacey and a bit wobbly so I have to be careful for the next 24 hours.
I have been instructed to rest for a couple of days. I’m crap at relaxing but I’m taking today’s events as a sign that I’ve hit a bit of a wall and need some time out. I plan to watch a lot of Man v Food, eat chocolate and not do a lot else until I feel better.
ETA: As I sat in A & E being treated I registered the irony of the fact that I was able to make use of the National Health Service in the very week that Parliament are voting to dismantle it. I don’t think any of us really appreciate how lucky we are to have a health service that is, essentially, free at the point of use (yes, we pay taxes but even so) and to not have to worry about whether I could afford to have those bloods taken or that ECG. I sincerely hope that the late Claire Rayner now fulfills her deathbed promise: ‘Tell David Cameron that if he screws up my NHS I’ll haunt him’.