So, Tuesday night was probably the most eventful night of my entire life.
Not in a sexual way, before you even try and interpret that. You dirty, dirty little pervert. You should be ashamed of yourself.
I mean in an all-night adventure which started with me waking up next to my boyfriend in literal agony.
And there I am writhing around, crying and screaming that I want to die, Alex is pinning me down and trying to get me to take my medication and it's all a huge, scary mess.
So I force co-codamol down my throat and lie there hoping to die. But the pain doesn't stop and I can't stop twisting and turning and crying and Alex is getting irritated as he doesn't know what to do, he's trying to hug me to calm me down but I keep moving and pulling away.
So I decide to phone 111, the NHS helpline to see what they say.
I'm explaining my issue through floods of tears and the guy on the other end says "do you think you could get up and make yourself a cup of tea?"
I reply "but I don't like tea."
Apparently it was a figurative question, I wasn't meant to take it seriously. 10/10 to me.
Then we're standing on the pavement outside the house waiting for the ambulance the 111 guy called, Alex wrapped up in the duvet and me constantly moving and hyperventilating.
He's trying to grab me, wrap me in the duvet with him and comfort me but I'm just wriggling out, sitting on the pavement, leaning against the car, trying to shake it off like some kind of spastic but it just won't go away.
The ambulance shows up and it's this little car. The lady asks if we can go inside. We say no because everyone is asleep and we don't want to wake them. She seems kind of pissed off about that one. But then it is like 3am, I'd be pissed off too if I had to work at that time.
I have all these things measured, my oxygen levels and heart rate, blood pressure, my blood sugar level (which is very low) and my temperature (which is very high).
So it gets decided that I need to go to the hospital. As I've had a recent urinary tract infection, it's discussed that it may have spread to my kidneys and caused the amount of pain I'm in.
The blood sugar is due to me having had a bottle of cider. Good God, the party animal in me is beginning to destroy my health.
The only issue with going to hospital is there's only one seat in the car. And there's no chance in hell I'm going anywhere without Alex.
There's also the issue of emergency equipment needed. So a big ambulance gets called.
When it arrives some 15 minutes later, I get taken inside the ambulance and sit on a chair, my problems are told to the new paramedics. One's a bloke and one's a lady who seems quite cheerful and funny.
Then I'm given a breathing thingy, which I'm told is laughing gas, and it won't have a lasting effect.
Alex gets sooooo jealous at that. Look how the tables have turned - now I'm the badass.
I'm then handed a little bottle of sickly sweet gel and told to eat it. It's for blood sugar. It's meant to be forest fruits flavour but just tastes of sugar.
As I'm under 18, we have to go to Margate, to QEQM. To the paediatric ward.
Fml.
Blood sugar back up again and we arrive in Margate, I'm helped out of the ambulance, donned in pyjama bottoms, Alex's sweatshirt and a denim jacket, with my tatty pink blanket wrapped over my shoulders.
Alex is stood near me, wearing his classic hoodie, and a pair of baggy blue trackies, wearing trainers with no socks. His hair's all ruffled and he's got his sleepy face on.
We're shown to the waiting room, where we buy coffee, Coke and watch the BBC news about female circumcision. By this point, the painkillers have kicked in and I'm feeling slightly better.
There's a couple in there, a man and a woman. The woman declares loudly that she likes my hair as soon as we walk in the room. I'm quite taken aback but manage to have a discussion about hair dye.
While I'm in the toilet, Alex has a chat with the bloke. Apparently they'd met that night and were planning on eloping together as soon as they'd left the hospital.
All I find out is that they'd been escorted here by the police.
Well you meet some interesting folk in Marga... I mean, the hospital.
After ages, I'm called into the consultation room. Nothing gets said much, I'm just given a tube to fill with my pee.
Back in the waiting room and Alex and I curl up together and try to sleep on the many chairs we have at our disposal. We also buy some food to eat out of the vending machine.
An age later, we're called by a doctor, who sits us down and takes away my pee. Good riddance. We're quickly moved to the paediatric ward, which only has one light on as I'm the only child in the hospital.
I lie on the bed, get poked and prodded a bit and am told that I have still a mild UTI. Then I'm given hardcore painkillers and antibiotics and sent on my merry way.
We ask the chap how far the train station is.
He replies "Oooh, is far. Is very very far."
Greaaaaaat.
So we walk to Westwood Cross at 6am, as one does, still dressed in pyjamas, Alex with my blanket tightly wrapped around him. He pretends to be irritated in the fact I dragged him to hospital at 3am but he later admits he'd never ever leave me in a situation where I needed him.
We make it to McDonalds at 6:20am. We explain to the guy at the till that we've been in hospital. I must look fucking rough because the guy offers me a free drink and hash brown.
We manage to get 2 buses and a train home, and 8am just crash.
So basically, I got fobbed off with more painkillers and no real solution to the problem.
Alex wants us to go back to hospital to actually find out why I'm hurting so bad but I just wanna sleep. So much.
But anyway, it was definitely an adventure!
Such exciting things happen to ones like me.
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