SuperTed does the business....

We arrive at A&E, screeching into the wrong car park. The ambulance one.

Now my little red punto wasn't quite up to the camouflage tactics required here, so thankfully help was at hand. A very, very, chilled off-duty Paramedic smoking his rolly, drinking a coffee, made an assessment of the blind panic on our faces, the frantic struggles of Mr. J, calmly took another drag of his rolly and said "spine yeah"?   Very Monty Python.

Bless him, he then single-handedly whipped me out of the car, into a wheelchair and without spilling a drop of coffee,  steered me to the afore mentioned delight that is A&E.  Thank you for ever you lovely man.

He then left me for Mr. J to come and register etc.  In he arrives, all flustered (he's a bit of a panicker my boy), and says "Right, I need to get you booked in - I'll just stick you over there while I do that."

Being a woman, his suggestion for where to 'stick me' was not my ideal one, so I said, No, I'd rather be over there, thank you, near those more normal (?!??!) people.

Even in that moment of panic, craziness and terror he managed to find some Little Britain humour, saying ""Seriously, you want that one, not that one". Me. "Yes, that one over there"

We even made some other people laugh in here, which is quite an achievement, trust me.

Diagnosis Day - waking up

Panic ensues.

I wake up and can't feel anything.  Not a thing from about my tummy down. This is very disconcerting.  Clearly I need to get help, but do I need to wee or do a poo first?  Have I already done that without knowing?  Am I about to embarrass myself in front of the cream of Reading society in A&E on a Saturday AM?

I call my husband, the chaos starts and off we go.

He half commando drags, carries me downstairs (I am no small load!), somehow gets me in my car and screeches off....

We're on the way to Royal Berks A&E.

Here goes everything/nothing...

I'm terrified.

It's just a bad back - honestly...

12 days ago I could walk.

 It was easy - one foot in the front of the other, usual stuff.  This was frequently obviously influenced by many factors, primarily wine in fairness, but in the main I was quite good at it.  Then my world flipped on it's axis in less than 24 hours.

This blog is to document some of the extraordinary stuff that's been going on over the last 12 days of my life.  Some will be funny, some will be nasty (biblical, medical level nasty), and some will be therapeutic for me more than you (but in fairness, this is all about me at the moment - sorry Charlotte, but for once, it's true).

Read on if you're interested - opt out if you're not.

Bad backs are dull for everyone, aren't they?

So, Thursday 21st March my back pain (which has been boring the tits of me, never mind everybody else gets really bad).  Off to A&E with you says my physio (Thank God for ActiveVIII of Henley - without them, my life would look very different now), so like a well behaved lady (no really, it bloody hurt!), off we went.

Standard A&E, long wait, lots of weirdos, boredom, but eventually get seen.  Doc agrees all is not well, x-rays, says I need an urgent MRI - he's worried.

Off home, lots of Tramadol and Diazapem.

There's got to be some upside to this - I might actually get to sleep now.

Bonus.