Against doctor's orders

Well a couple of weeks ago I thought I had come down with flu, complete with a nasty sore throat. Two weeks later the sore throat persisted and I could feel lumps down there, so I thought it might be a good idea to see the doctor.

The morning before setting off to Sheffield to stay with my girlfriend for me birthday the doctor said I had a “quinsy” which is a pustule infection (not the crime solving dead person poker as seen on telly) that could inflame and close off the throat, eek!

He tried to refer me to a local hospital for surgery and spoil my travel plans as apparently it was a “same day emergency” but I said, much to his annoyance, that I didn’t know where the local hospital was but did know where the Sheffield one was which is where I was on my way to.

He said ultimately it was up to me and so I gambled on not dying within the next few hours and jumped on the train up north.

I met my girlfriend and we went to the hospital together where I was told I only had tonsillitis and was given some antibiotics and advised to get painkillers (good idea).

So I spent my birthday weekend shoving pills down my aching throat and not being able to kiss my lovely girlfriend (we did sneak a couple though, complete with disclaimer from me just in case she caught it).

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, on my birthday I had diarrhoea which has yet to cease. Yay!

Maybe next year will be less painful.

It was all worth it just to see my girlfriend for a few days though, so there was a plus side.