Please don’t die until pharmacy opens at 10am
I’m currently lying in a hospital bed in the critical dependency unit at Clatterbridge relieved to be here and reflectively amused. Dropping off to sleep last night my phone rang late. Both kids in house, tick. I checked phone and it was a call from Clatterbridge at 10.30pm at night. What on earth was going on? Pretty sure my consultant wasn’t calling with his bedtime cocoa in hand. ‘Hi Mrs Miln, I’m a registrar from Clatterbridge. Can I ask you have you got pains in your chest or are you struggling to breathe?’ ‘Well up until 10 seconds ago no! Now I feel like you’ve just sat on my chest and have your hands round my throat. Why?’ ‘We’ve picked up from your scan Thursday you have a blood clot on your lung and we need to treat it urgently to get rid of it. 3 months of injections.’ A discussion around avoiding Chester A&E ensued and I said it’s fine we’ll come straight to Clatterbridge now. On reflection and only on reflection as I’ve had a sleepless night thinking about the lit...