Yesterday morning (Wednesday 22nd April) at about 7.20am I woke on the floor in our bathroom looking up at something white and some wood. Quickly into focus came Mrs. P looking distinctly worried.
For some reason my first instinct was to say; “I’m really sorry.” Over and over again. Why was I sorry? Had I done something wrong? Why am I lying on the floor and why am I staring up at what looks like a broken piece of the bath? All white plastic, wood and ceiling.
I had a feeling that, if I placed myself in the capable hands of Mrs. P all would become plain so I closed my eyes and continued my “I’m sorry..” mantra. Mrs. P was in efficient mode and was calling an ambulance.
There is still a gap in my memory about what happened immediately prior to this but, I remember, when I woke that morning feeling not 100%. I know my place though and that particular place at this time in any given morning is to get up and make tea. I didn’t feel that bad.
I went to the bathroom and, standing in front of the mirror ready to do my teeth, I suddenly started feeling considerably less than 100%. I didn’t feel dizzy, just like I had proper flu. All I wanted to do was go back to bed. I remember saying to Amanda, who was still in bed; “Would you mind making the tea. I don’t feel great and want to go back to bed.” Next thing I know is; “How’d I get here?”
Mrs. P has filled in the gap. She says my voice sounded funny so she immediately got out of bed to see if I was ok. It is little more than a single step from our bedroom to the bathroom door where her normally Adonis like husband was standing in the doorway looking like an anemic extra from the film Night of the Living Dead
This ghostly apparition then just crumpled, falling backwards with little or no consideration for health and safety. She tried to reach out to stop me but I fell back and bounced my head off the bath ending in an unconscious, unglamorous heap half under the bath.
At this point everything is fine and hunky dory, for me at least, as I have no idea what is going on. I am officially ‘away with the fairies.’
Meanwhile, back in the land of the conscious, things are far from great for Mrs. P who describes a ‘very long’ 10-15 seconds where our hero, is staring, eyes wide open, at the ceiling. Completely unresponsive. Poor Mrs. P thinks I’m dead.
Made of stern stuff she knows she needs to call an ambulance which explains why I am briefly alone when I come round. This gives me time to work out, if not how I got there, at least where I am.
An ambulance arrives very quickly, by which time I have made it to the bedroom and am looking a bit less pale. Because of the risk of Covid19 I have to go alone to the hospital. Paramedics are ace by the way and not just because they admired our antique skis on the wall.
Long story short, I end up at the Royal Berkshire Hospital where I get to do lots of tests. We discover the following: I’ve not had a heart attack. I’ve probably got COVID19, hence the flu like symptoms and the passing out. (FYI passing out is NOT a symptom of Covid19. It is a symptom of not sitting down quickly enough when you feel rubbish). X-rays of my lungs look good. The prognosis; probably a sore head and neck, now would you please go away and stop bothering us! We are busy.
Do I have COVID19? The National Health Service (NHS) here in the UK only test front line workers for the virus so we will never know for sure. Either way, me and Mrs. P are now in lockdown. Me for 7 days from first signs and her for 14 days, unless, blah, blah, blah…
I can think of no one I would rather be locked down with. She acted in a cool and calm way. She is my saviour.
Afterward: It’s been difficult to start writing again. Mom died only a week ago today. I was going to write about her but, have been struggling to write less than a novella. You will also know that mom is suspected to have died from COVID19. (If you don’t know this already, please try to keep up.) So, since I spent many hours with her at the end, I have been monitoring my health just in case.
Did I get this from mom? Who knows. I do know that, if I did, I would have preferred a watch or some other token to remember her by.