Well, my harmless little bit of pain with the sprained ankle thingy unexpectedly kicked into another gear. The foot ballooned and flared over the past day or so until the agony hovered around the Red Zone last night. Consequently, I have just had 14 hours at Chelsea & Westminster hospital. And a fine set of hours they were, too. I bascially received the varying opinions of about six doctors and four nurses. The consensus was that the injury had inexplicably exploded into a freak infection. They wanted to keep me in overnight in case the infection spread into my bloodstream and caused death. All this for twisting an ankle.
I resisted the over nighter B&B option for all my worth because I have a piece to write and a dealine to meet. I am back home now with a bag of pills that would make Mr Tambourine Man jealous. All that is left to say is a heartfelt Thanks to all the amazing, caring people who paid such phenomenal attention to my bloated piece of flesh and bone. Throughout the entire excursion, there was not one open palm in sight.